


A Cruise to Nowhere

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural hits the high seas when Sam takes pity on Dean and books them a cruise home instead of a flight. Post 2x03 Bloodlust The usual hurt/comfort/angst/awesome!Sam/Dean</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born from a prompt and a few late night PM convos with JaniceC678. We were both enthralled with the idea of the boys being stuck at sea with a…captive…audience. :P Thanks for the fantastic setting idea Janice! My Muse loves you. LOL

**Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P**

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**Chapter 1**

"I still don't get why Bobby couldn't have come after this stupid thing himself." Dean groused as he set the heavy curse box in the trunk of their rental car.

Sam chuckled. "Because no way you were going to sit by his phones and play Bobby for the weekend." He squeezed himself into the passenger seat of the compact car with a groan as Dean got in the driver's seat. "Damn I miss the Impala."

Dean grinned at him as he started the engine and pulled away from the defunct museum. Thankfully security systems in Venezuela weren't exactly high tech on a closed museum. There hadn't even been any cameras to worry about and they'd been able to liberate the box before the building's contents were auctioned. He still wasn't sure how Bobby had talked them into coming to friggin Venezuela after a damn curse box. The plane ride had been…hell.

"Cheer up." Sam twisted with difficulty and pulled his bag from the back seat. He rummaged around in the pocket and came up with two tickets.

"Yeah? I need reminding that we still have to get on a damn deathtrap to go home?" Dean glared at him and Sam laughed.

"You so owe me." Sam pulled the tickets and waved them at him. "Cruise ship. No planes just calm seas and the onboard casino for five days."

"Don't tease me, Sammy." Dean snatched the tickets from his hand and looked at them, a slow smile spreading across his face as he read them. "Dude." He looked over to the satisfied grin on his brother's face. "Ok yeah I owe you. This is awesome."

Sam smiled and sat back, or tried too. His knees were practically in his face in the little car. He settled for resting his left arm on his knees with a sigh.

"How's the arm?" Dean glanced over at the white bandage peeking out from under Sam's rolled sleeve. It had only been four days since they'd run afoul of Gordon; a hunter with no morals. The memory of him slicing Sam's arm open to make a point was still fresh in Dean's mind; that and the knife that had been to his throat made him itch to go find Gordon and dole out another beating.

"It's fine." Sam shrugged. It ached and it itched and was starting to drive him a little crazy but he smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"Uh huh. That'll happen." Dean rolled his eyes but he let it go and decided to focus on the cruise instead. "So, floating Vegas." He grinned over at Sam.

"Not gonna see you for five days am I?" Sam laughed again when Dean nodded. "I'm gonna spend mine stretched out next to the pool, dude." He sighed happily. "Five days of sun and quiet and vacation. When's the last time we actually had a vacation?"

"Vegas week. Damn that was years ago." Dean shook his head and smirked. It'd been the first time he'd managed to get his little brother so falling down drunk he barely remembered the night before which, considering the strippers, was probably a good thing. Their Dad had been livid when he'd tracked them down. Dean's smile fell away and the familiar ache and guilt slid back into his stomach.

"Dean?" Sam saw his expression change. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Fine." Dean sped up, in a hurry to reach their ship and not be stuck in a small car with a kid brother who had unerring emotional radar where he was concerned. He managed to put a small smile back on his face so Sam wouldn't poke at him.

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Dean studied the cruise ship as they headed up the gangplank with a dubious eye. "Not exactly Princess cruise lines is it?"

"Dude. It's Venezuela." Sam snorted. "This is practically the QE II around here." The ship was ten decks he knew from the travel agent he'd booked with and had a casino, four restaurants, two pools and some other amenities neither of them were interested in. Sam had all their bags and Dean had stuffed the curse box into a duffel to keep prying eyes off the protective spells inscribed all over its outside. Bobby had been cagey about its contents except to tell them several times not to be idjits and open the stupid thing.

They were led to a small state room and Sam smirked when Dean looked at him. They'd never be able to use that particular credit card again; Sam had maxed it out but it was worth it. The two queen size beds sat to their right covered in brown quilts. Across from them were two comfortable looking sofas the same color, cream carpeting and a flat screen tv that Dean went and ran an appreciative finger over.

"This does not suck, Sammy." Dean smiled and set the curse box on one of the couches before he sprawled over the other.

"Beats hell out of some of the motels we've stayed in." Sam went past him to check out the mini-fridge.

"Hey get me a beer." Dean grinned and swatted Sam's arm as he sat up.

"Crap!" Sam wrapped a hand around his left forearm and squeezed his eyes shut. Dean had hit the healing wound from Gordon and pain had lanced up his arm into his shoulder.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean took hold of his wrist and pried his fingers away. "Lemme see. I thought you said this was fine?" He pushed the sleeve up and peeled back the bandage. Dean had wanted to stitch it closed but Sam had convinced him it wasn't that deep. They'd settled for closing it with band-aids. It was an angry red now and warm to the touch. "Damn." He glanced up to see a sweat broken out on Sam's brow.

"It's ok." Sam pulled his arm back, cradling it.

"It's infected, dumbass." Dean shook his head. "Sit down." The still simmering anger at Gordon flared back up but he pushed it down and went for their first aid kit, digging it out of his bag. "You should have told me."

"Didn't realize." Sam dropped onto the couch Dean had vacated with a groan. "I thought it was just itching that bad because it was healing." He poked gingerly at the healing cut himself and fought the instant nausea when he felt fluid beneath the skin.

"This aint gonna be fun, Sam." Dean set bandages, gauze and peroxide on the little table and held up a small knife. Sam nodded and Dean took his wrist in a firm grip. He was going to have to reopen the cut to clean it out. "Hold still." He drew the edge of the knife along the line of the closed wound and swallowed hard as blood and the viscous yellow of infection began to ooze out.

Sam held himself still, gritting his teeth. He didn't remember it hurting this much when Gordon had cut him. The small knife felt like a giant blade cutting into him, the pain so large he had to close his eyes again and breathe through it. He felt like an idiot for not realizing it was becoming infected and knew Dean thought he'd just ignored it.

Dean set the knife aside and grabbed a wad of gauze. He spent several agonizing minutes squeezing all he could out of the now open wound, wiping away the infection while Sam kept a death grip on the arm of the couch. "Almost done." Dean took the bottle of peroxide and poured it over the cut. Sam hissed a breath between his teeth and flinched. "Sorry, kiddo."

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't hurt that much." He smiled wanly at the look of disbelief on his brother's face.

"Dude, you're a shit liar." Dean chuckled and took up the bandage. "I'm not gonna close it yet. Might have to do this again." He gently wound the bandage around Sam's forearm firmly and taped it in place.

"Thanks." Sam took his arm back and leaned against the back of the couch in relief, waiting for the burning to die down. "Dead man's blood." He said suddenly.

"Huh?" Dean stopped cleaning up the small mess and stared at him confused.

"When I carried Lenore out. Must have gotten some of it in the cut." Sam shook his head and sighed at his own bad luck.

"Better that than her blood dude." Dean said as a cold chill washed over him. It hadn't occurred to him until that moment that Sam could have been accidentally turned helping her. "Not feeling the urge to go snacking on our fellow passengers are ya?"

Sam chuckled. "Only the buffet's in danger from me."

"Come on then." Dean smirked and pulled him up with his good arm. "Get some food in ya and then find the casino." He washed his hands together gleefully.

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Sam sat at the bar and watched Dean on the other side of the room. He'd found a poker game and was happily hustling the poor fools who had no idea they were playing with a card shark. The pile of chips in front him grew after every hand and Sam chuckled; at this rate they were going to come out of this trip ahead.

"Another beer?" The bartender slid up beside Sam with a smile.

"Uh, no. Thanks." Sam shook his head and stood. In truth he was feeling a little shaky and knew it was the infection in the wound in his arm. He felt overwarm and exhausted. He made his way through the tables to his brother who was pulling in another pile of chips and smiling. "Dean."

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean grinned up at him. "Pull up a chair."

Sam chuckled, glancing around at the frustrated faces of the other players. "Naw, I'm good. Heading back to the room."

Dean's smile instantly faltered and he took a close look at him. "You want me to come?" Sam looked pale with the beginnings of shadows under his eyes.

"Dude." Sam rolled his eyes. "I think I can find my way." He clapped Dean's shoulder and gave a nod to the other players and leaned in toward Dean. "Kick it in the ass."

Dean snorted a laugh and chuckled as Sam walked off. He clapped his hands together. "My deal, boys?"

Sam stepped out of the casino into the crowded hall, maneuvering through the crowd of people mingling and looking out at the ocean. The cacophony of voices was driving his mild headache into migraine proportions but he managed to smile genially at people as he passed them. He turned a corner into a less busy hall and sighed in relief as the noise level dropped. A child near a cabin door caught his eye and he slowed. He couldn't have been more than ten with a messy thatch of short brown hair and tears rolled slowly down his cheeks beneath blue eyes. Sam stopped and knelt in front of him.

"Hey, buddy. Are you ok?" Sam smiled at him. The boys' eyes shifted to look at Sam and then drifted away again. "You lose your parents here somewhere?" Sam waited but the boy said nothing and didn't look at him.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice surprised Sam. He stood and turned.

"Dean? Thought you were playing still?" Sam watched his brother jog over to meet him.

"Naw. Tapped out the table." Dean grinned, pleased with himself. "What are you doing exactly?"

"Think this kid lost his parents or something." Sam turned to point and then stared. "Where'd he go?" The boy had vanished. "He was just here."

Dean chuckled and took his arm, turning him back down the hall. "Probably into the room you're standing to next to. Come on."

Sam shook his head and glanced back at the door. He hadn't even heard it open. "Man." He put a hand up to his pounding head as they walked. "Headache's worse than I thought."

Dean frowned and guided him back out to the gangway and up the stairs to their deck. "Thought you looked a little pasty." He smirked. "Even for you."

"Not my fault we do most of our work at night." Sam looked over at him. "You're not exactly Mr. Bronze yourself."

"Bite me, Sammy." Dean ran a hand through his hair with a grin. "I'm gorgeous. All the ladies say so."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "What you are is shameless. There's a difference."

Dean shrugged. "Potato, potahto." He dropped a hand briefly on the back of his brother's neck. "You're just jealous." He took his hand back as Sam chuckled and sighed. Sam was running a fever as he'd suspected; a small one but a fever all the same. He kicked himself for not checking Sam's arm sooner as the infection now seemed to have a hold.

Sam protested when they reached their room and Dean shoved him toward the bed. He argued again when his big brother shoved a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water at him. He took them and for form's sake flipped the finger at Dean as he gratefully rolled into his pillow and closed his eyes. He was a Winchester and you didn't admit how bad you felt; ever. When he woke a couple hours later it was to find Dean sprawled over one of the couches with a beer and a small army of aliens trooping across the tv screen after the hapless humans.

Dean glanced over when he heard Sam move. "You awake sunshine?"

Sam groaned in response and dropped his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. "Time is it?" He asked sleepily.

Dean smirked. "About three in the afternoon." He flicked off the tv and stood, grabbing a box off the table as he came over and tossed it on the bed. "What do you say we go relax somewhere with better scenery?"

"What's this?" Sam pulled the box over and opened it then laughed. "Swim trunks. Dude."

Dean laughed. "Come on. You said you wanted to prune up by the pool." It was his not so subtle ploy to make sure Sam took it easy and be there to keep an eye on him at the same time. He still wasn't entirely past the knowledge his brother had been kidnapped by vampires from their motel room and he'd had no idea. It gave him chills when he even thought about it and added an extra measure of guilt that he could have lost him; that it would have been his fault. Dean shook it away and pulled his own trunks out of the box. "Move it, princess."

Sam watched him head to the bathroom and shook his head, amused. He changed quickly and decided lying out in the sun was about the best plan he could think of. His head still felt fuzzy and his arm ached. A little uncomplicated sun would be heaven.

The pool wasn't as busy as they feared and they easily found a couple deck chairs away from the families. Sam sprawled out happily in a chair and groaned once he felt the sun's warmth soaking into his skin. He didn't even care that he'd have a white stripe on his arm from the bandage.

"Dude, that sounded dirty." Dean laughed and stretched out in the chair next to him. Unlike Sam, his eyes were open and enjoying the group of college girls across the pool bouncing about in the shallow end. "Definitely better scenery."

"Oh…my…god." A woman's voice said from beside them. Both men looked up to see a short, curvy blonde woman standing and staring with her mouth open at them. "That's just not fair." She mumbled.

Dean stretched, flexing chest muscles and grinned at her with a wink. "Afternoon."

"Uh…uh…uh huh." She nodded, apparently bereft of speech.

Sam leaned up and twisted to see her, unaware that the rippling of muscles across his abdomen was making her breath clog in her throat. "Hello." He smiled and then lay back with a chuckle.

"Um…wow." She said finally and darted away as her face flushed a brilliant red.

Dean laughed and settled back into his chair. "I think I like cruise ships."

Sam laughed with him and got comfortable again. "Pretty sure we've got starring roles in a fantasy tonight now." The sun lulled him into relaxation and then to perhaps the first peaceful, dreamless sleep he'd had in longer than he could remember. So it was all the more jarring when he was awakened by Dean shaking his shoulder and the blaring sound of an alarm ringing in his ears. "Huh? Wha?"

"Something's wrong." Dean looked around as the siren kept blowing, watching as scared passengers looked around in confusion. "Come on." He pulled Sam up with him and headed for the interior of the ship.

"I think that's a fire alarm." Sam saw a few crew members sprinting in the distance away from them.

"It is." Dean confirmed. He could smell it now they were inside; smoke in the air. He knew that smell like no other. "It's this way." He followed his nose with Sam at his back and headed down the stairs toward the lower deck and the casino. The crowd of passengers thinned out as they went and as they neared the casino, two crewmen went past them at a run with fire extinguishers.

"What's going on?" Sam grabbed the sleeve of one of the men.

"Uh, nothing to worry about sir." The man looked harried but stopped and managed a smile. "A small fire in one of the passenger quarters."

"Was anyone hurt?" Dean asked and looked past him down the hall to where tendrils of smoke could now be seen crawling along the ceiling. "Is the ship in any danger?"

"No. No. It's a small fire." The crewman smiled again and started away. "Probably already even out. Nothing to worry about."

"Why don't I believe him?" Dean followed after at a slow jog.

Sam coughed briefly as the smoke intensified and they were stopped by a wall of crewmen finally, asked to stay back. Sam looked over their shoulders and frowned. "Dean." He tapped his brother's shoulder. "That's the door where I saw the kid earlier."

Dean nodded with his eyes on the door as two men came out and stood in close conversation. Their faces were grim. One of them looked up and saw all the onlookers. He reached back and hastily pulled the door shut. "Get these people out of here." He told the other man and strode away toward the casino.

"I don't like this, Sam." Dean scowled at the closed door. He wanted to get inside the room and have a look. Something was picking at the back of his neck, the sense that rarely failed him when their kind of 'wrong' was near.

Sam nodded and tapped the shoulder of the nearest crewman. "Was someone hurt? I saw a boy in that room earlier. Is he ok?"

"Sir, you'll need to head back that way now." The crewman smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle push. "We're taking care of it."

"But was anyone hurt?" Sam pressed, refusing to be moved. He needed to know if the child was alive.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean took his arm and pulled him away. "They're not gonna tell us anything. They're in damage control mode. We're at sea. They can't afford a panic."

"Right." Sam nodded. "I know." It didn't make it any easier to walk away not knowing. He looked back as they reached the corner and pulled Dean to a stop. "Dean."

Dean turned to peer between the press of bodies and saw two new men coming out of the room; a long, black rubber bag held between them. "Ah hell."

"Someone died in there." Sam said softly. The murmurs of the other passengers around them told Sam they weren't the only ones who noticed the body bag.

"Let's go." Dean tugged him into motion again. "Can't do anything in swim trunks dude."

"He was crying." Sam said quietly as they headed back to their room. "That little boy. He was crying."

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_To Be Continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dean smiled as he walked and the smell of cooking food reached his nose. He and Sam had changed and split up after another aborted attempt to get into the burned room. The crew was being tight-lipped about it and Sam had suggested they try asking the two departments most likely to freely gossip anywhere in the world; housekeeping and the kitchens. Dean had volunteered for the kitchens and chuckled. The Steward he'd asked for directions had informed they were baking pies today. He rubbed his hands together happily as he neared the double doors for the ship's kitchens and pushed through into controlled chaos.

The kitchens, he'd been informed, stretched a third the length of the ship. It was teeming with people. They ran back and forth, dodging around each other, narrowly avoiding collisions in their haste. Some were laden with trays, others with pots and pans; it was like a dance choreographed by an epileptic he thought. Somehow they managed to avoid each other time and again and through it all voices shouted orders and questions answered in a level of noise that made it impossible for Dean to understand what they were saying.

"You shouldn't be here."

Dean turned at the loud voice and smiled at the short, dark haired woman behind him. "Hi there."

"Oh." Her eyes and mouth rounded appreciatively as she took him in and a smile tugged at her face.

"I smelled pie." Dean leaned down and said conspiratorially. He smiled more widely and gave her a wink.

She dropped her eyes for a second, her own grin showing white teeth before she looked back up. "Well, I suppose I could make an exception." She touched his arm lightly. "I'm Jenny. Follow me and uh…don't, you know, run in to anyone."

Dean smirked and followed closely behind her, practically hugging her back through the kitchen as the frenetic level of activity carried on around him. He smiled happily when those passing them looked up in surprise and chuckled when an older woman stopped in her tracks to give him the once over, causing the man behind her to stumble into her back before she started moving again.

"Here we go." Jenny drew him to a table against the wall in the middle of the kitchen and nudged him toward a chair. "You just sit there. I'll grab you a slice of pie." She raised her brows. "The blueberry just came out."

"Oh baby." Dean worked not to drool. Jenny laughed and moved off through the throng. He watched the bustling kitchen and after a few minutes of observing was able to see the tension in the shoulders of every person who passed by. The fires and the death were definitely having an impact. He put his smile back in place as Jenny weaved back to him with a plate held expertly above her head. She set it on the table in front of him with a flourish.

"One slice of hot from the oven blueberry pie." Jenny enjoyed the flush of pleasure that spread across the man's face as he looked with avarice at the steaming slice of pie. He took the fork and a first bite and closed his eyes, moaning in a way that made her knees weak. "Good?"

In reply, Dean took hold of her hand and tugged her into the chair across from him. "You are my Pie Goddess. I think I'm in love." He took another bite, savoring the sweet, tangy burst of the berries on his tongue; the rich flaky perfection of the crust and the almost too warm temperature. "Mmmf."

Jenny laughed and propped her chin in her hand to watch him. "You have a name?"

Dean nodded and looked up at her from the pie, green eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Dean." He licked an errant blueberry from his bottom lip and smirked as her face flushed. "Although, you bring me another slice of this and I'll have to change my name to yours."

Jenny leaned back with a laugh and shook her head. "Oh you are gonna get me in trouble." She grinned. "Technically the staff aren't supposed to fraternize with guests but…" She reached a hand out, running a finger slowly along his chin. She pulled it back with a small line of blueberry sauce on the tip and licked it clean while watching his eyes darken. "My shift ends at midnight. An enterprising guy could find me in the ship's bar."

"I am feelin' a powerful thirst coming on." Dean gave her a lopsided grin and caught her hand, playing his thumb maddeningly over the sensitive skin of her palm. He altered his grin to a sad smile. "Been consoling my little brother though." He sighed, inwardly smiling at the instant soft look on her face as he pulled the awesome big brother card. "He's been worried sick about this little boy he met being hurt in that fire."

"Oh my." Jenny squeezed his hand in sympathy. "You're wonderful for taking care of him."

Dean nodded. "Poor guy's torn up about it and the crew won't tell him anything." He glared up at the ceiling toward the top deck and the bridge before looking back at her. "Just wish I could settle him, you know? Find out if the kid's ok."

Jenny looked around at the kitchen staff still bustling away and leaned closer to him. "I don't really know a whole lot but Mercedes said a man died in the fire and Jorge was positive the man was the only one in the room. He works in records sometimes. He says he checked." Jenny smiled and patted his knee. "Tell your brother I think the boy is probably fine wherever he is."

Dean pulled her hand to his mouth and dropped a light kiss across her knuckles. "Thank you."

Jenny had to take a deep breath before she nodded and sighed with regret when he released her hand. "Any time."

He pushed the empty plate back and stood. "I should go tell him. Think you could lead me back outta here?"

Jenny rose and took his hand back in hers, pulling him along. "Find me in the bar later and I'll lead you somewhere else."

Dean grinned as she tugged him expertly through the busy kitchen and back to the door.

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Sam leaned back against a row of washing machines and listened as the housekeepers talked back and forth about the goings on around the ship. They had looked strangely at him when he'd first entered but quickly warmed to his smile. The oldest of them, a Venezuelan woman had called him 'little man' in her native tongue with a laugh and put him to the side out of the way. She'd given him an apple and patted his shoulder before going back to her work. The laundry was near the bottom of the ship and he could hear the thrumming of the engines and feel them through the machines at his back. Large, green laundry bags flew slowly by on trolleys above them as they made their way from station to station. Unlike the women, Sam had had to duck under them several times.

He stood now with his left arm cradled in his right, doing his best to ignore the pain and the fever he felt brewing in him. Most of concentration was taken up translating the rapid-fire Spanish of the women as they worked. He was missing things but catching enough. There had been other fires in the last two weeks. They had been small and no one had been hurt but the fires were wearing on the crew's nerves. None of the women knew anything about a boy and all were adamant there had been no boy in the most recent fire; that it had been a grown man who'd died. That at least gave Sam a little peace but he still wondered about the child.

"Gracias." Sam straightened and smiled around at the women. They each grinned back at him; the younger women with covetous smiles that made him blush while the older women raised their brows and shook their heads. He ducked under the moving laundry bags and made his way out of the laundry. In the hall he sighed as the noise level dropped considerably. The thrumming of the engines was beginning to pound in his head though, louder out here away from the machines.

Sam started down the hallway, stepping around more housekeepers coming and going with carts and then stopped dead. At the end of the long hall stood the little boy. He looked sadly at Sam for just a moment and then ducked away around the corner.

"Hey! Wait!" Sam lurched into a run, dodging another cart and turned the corner. There was no sign of him. He grabbed the nearest man. "Did you see where the boy went?"

"Sir?" The man looked down the hall and back. "What boy?"

"Damn." Sam let him go and started down the hall at a jog. He peered in every door and just as he was about to give up, he caught sight of the child again at the far end of the hall in a small group of people getting into the elevator. "Wait!" Sam called and ran to catch it but the doors swooshed shut on him. He growled in frustration and watched the lights above the door until they stopped four levels up.

"Ok." Sam turned for the stairs and jogged up them. By the time he reached the right floor he was heaving for breath and longed to lay down. He shoved the exhaustion down and ran out into the new hall.

"Sammy?"

Sam spun and stared as Dean came down the hall toward him.

"Dean. He was just here." Sam looked around, confused. "That little boy. He came up the elevator."

Dean studied his brother and didn't like what he was seeing. He took his arm and scowled; the skin warm under his hand. "Sam. There's no kid here."

Sam turned a disgusted look to his brother. "Well no kidding, Captain Obvious."

Dean snorted and reassessed Sam's condition if he was lucid enough to insult him. "Ok, well he can't have gotten far. We'll…"

Screams interrupted them and both men spun as the kitchen doors at the end of the hall burst open, spilling panicked people outward.

"Holy crap." Dean ran back toward the kitchen with Sam at his side. He spotted Jenny staggering into view. He grabbed her and slapped out the flames licking up her arm. "You ok?"

Jenny nodded, wide-eyed. "One of the stoves…it just went up." She looked back at the door as they were bumped by escaping people. "Jorge…he was right next to it."

"Ok." Dean grabbed a passing cook. "Take care of her?" The man nodded and pulled Jenny with him.

"Dean?" Jenny called as she was pulled away but he turned toward the kitchen instead.

"Our firestarter again?" Sam asked as smoke began to seep out of the doors.

"Bet money on it. Come on." Dean shoved through the doors and ducked his head, coughing into his shoulder. The kitchens were devoid of people and looked wrong without all the frenetic movement of the people. Halfway across the long room one of the stoves poured flames from the six burners up to the ceiling.

"Dean." Sam dashed to the side and grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall. He tossed it to his brother and ran to the next twenty feet away.

Dean ducked low beneath the growing smoke as he neared the stove and sighed. "Jorge I presume." The man lay face down on the floor beside the maelstrom of fire, unmoving. Dean knocked off the safety on the extinguisher and started covering the burners with the foam.

Sam went wide around the other side and fired the foam up into the ceiling as the flames began crawling across it in earnest. He frowned as he watched the fire and for a moment it almost looked as if it were splitting in two directions; reaching out for him and his brother. He doused most of the flames above them, suffocating them with the foam and set his extinguisher aside.

"Get this guy outta here!" Dean shouted above the roar and crackle of the fire.

Sam didn't argue. He ducked low and rolled Jorge's head and shoulders up and over his own in a fireman's carry. He was heavy and Sam staggered under the weight toward the doors. He glanced back and saw Dean backing away as his extinguisher began to fizzle; the burners still spewing flames into the air though not as strongly. He didn't like leaving Dean there alone with the fire; it gave him a bad feeling. As he reached the door he felt his brother's hand on his back and the tension eased across his shoulders.

They pushed through into the hall and Dean helped Sam lower the man to the floor. "Damn."

Sam sighed as he got a good look at the poor cook. "Never had a chance." The man's face was burned beyond recognition; the skin blackened and charred. Even the top of his white chef's jacket was melted into his neck, his hair gone and Sam's stomach did a slow roll at the sight of bone through some of the crisp, twisted muscle where it was pulling away. The smell alone made him rock back on his heels.

Dean felt a little green himself. "Fire must have hit him right in the face." He glanced up at the sound of raised voices and winced as the fire alarm began to scream. He rolled his eyes. "Better late than friggin never. Come on." He pulled Sam up with him and headed away from the voices. He didn't want to get caught up with ship's security.

"What the hell's going on, Dean?" Sam asked as they turned a corner out of sight. "This is nuts."

"Did you smell it?" Dean glanced over at him and pulled them out of the way as a group of crewmen armed with extinguishers ran past. "Like Ozone in the kitchen."

Sam frowned. "But it was a gas stove. That wasn't an electrical fire."

"No, but a spook manifesting in there, expending the energy to set off that blaze?" Dean shrugged. "That could do it. I wanna go over the first crime scene with the EMF."

"That's a hell of a ghost if it is a ghost." Sam was slightly comforted that they had the weapons bag with them and silently thanked the poor security when they'd boarded the ship.

Dean nodded and looked down, scowling. "Dude." He grabbed Sam's left arm and raised it up; blood was slowly seeping through the bandage on his arm.

"It's ok." Sam took his arm back with a roll of his eyes. "That guy was heavy."

"Room." Dean gave him a shove toward the elevator, his tone not brooking any argument. "Don't think I don't know you're running a fever too."

"Dean, I'm not five. I can handle it." Sam gave him his best bitch-face which earned him nothing but his big brother's glare.

Dean gave him the silent treatment all the way back to the room. There was a building pressure in his chest that they're peaceful ride back home was quickly going very wrong and a stubborn, walking wounded little brother wasn't helping. It was the fires, he thought. They were literally trapped on this ship with fires breaking out and a deep-seated part of him wanted nothing more than to bundle Sam into a lifeboat and get the hell out of dodge. They could row the hell back home.

"Sit." Dean pushed Sam toward one of the couches and grabbed the first aid kit.

Sam started unwinding the bandage himself, resigned to being mothered. It was irritating and comforting at the same time. He'd worried for a while that Dean would never find his way out of the dark place he'd gone when their father died; that Dean was 'handling' him like he used to gave him hope.

"It's better than it was." Sam told him as he got a look at the still open wound. It was oozing blood in a couple places from the strain he'd put on it but the puss was gone.

"Oh yeah. Looks awesome." Dean said in a disgusted tone. The cut was an angry red and while it might not be oozing yellow anymore it was swollen and looked painful. To prove a point he pressed his thumb into the skin beside it, watching as Sam paled. "Still feel better?"

"Bite me." Sam said a little breathlessly.

Dean cleaned the cut again, grimacing each time Sam hissed in pain but he was thorough and decided to stitch it back up. The damage had been done if Sam's fever was anything to go by. Sam kept his arm still through the process but the strain showed on his face. Dean wrapped a fresh bandage around it and sat back.

"Sam, you need antibiotics." Dean told him. "We need to go to the…"

"No sickbay." Sam shook his head and took his arm back. He rose and went to find his laptop.

"Dammit, Sammy. The infections in your damn blood stream now." Dean growled. "You think Bobby wouldn't kick both our asses for letting this go?"

"We're big boys, Dean." Sam turned and raised a brow at him. "We've had infected cuts before and somehow come through without running to an emergency room. People survive them all the time without medical intervention." His voice dripped with sarcasm to remind Dean of the number of times he'd ignored his own injuries, stubborning his way through infections rather than deal with a hospital. In truth, he wasn't ready to be anywhere near anything resembling a hospital again yet; not after Dad. He still saw it every night in his sleep; looking in that doorway to see his father on the floor, his skin already going cold as he screamed for help, Dean lying in his bed looking so close to death with only the machines keeping him there. Sam gave himself a shake. On an intellectual level he knew what he was feeling was fast approaching a phobia but he wasn't ready to face it yet. "Look." Sam sat on his bed and deflated a little. "We can always pay a late night visit to the sick bay." He smiled at his brother, offering him a compromise. "Liberate some antibiotics if I'm not feeling better by then."

Dean finished packing up the first aid kit and tossed it onto the table. Sam was right on the one hand; not every stupid infected injury required a hysterical visit to a Doctor to fix. Most of the time their bodies fought it off and made them miserable for a few days until it did. Dean however had always been unwilling to take chances with his brother and the fever worried him. "Fine." He said at last and held up a finger. "But I even think you're going downhill and I will knock your ass out myself and drag you in."

"Deal." Sam smiled tiredly and leaned back against the wall with his computer on his lap. "I want a look at the ship's passenger list."

Dean watched him tapping away and pulled a beer out of the little fridge. "Still looking for that kid? Sam, he's fine wherever he is. I don't get why you're so focused on him."

Sam didn't look up. "I don't know. He was just so…sad." The tears in the boys' blue eyes had touched something in him and he needed to know he was alright. "Damn." He snapped the laptop closed and set it aside. "The system's protected. I could probably hack it but…"

"It'd set off alarms and they'd be at our doorstep." Dean smiled grimly. "Ok. We go to the computer then." He smiled. "They bust is in there we can just say we got turned around and the door was open."

Sam snorted a laugh. "Hope you've been working on your 'innocent' face." He stretched his legs out on the bed and leaned his head back. "We've got a few hours to kill. Go clean out some pockets in the casino or something."

"I'm good." Dean flopped onto the couch and flicked the television on. He wasn't going to leave Sam alone with random fires popping up all over the damn place nor with the fever. He kept the volume low and settled on an old movie, smirking over at his brother and hoping he looked up and saw. It'd be worth the bitch-face Sam would give him if he realized Dean was watching Killer Klowns from Outer Space. He chuckled softly and got comfortable.

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Sam scowled at his brother as he had several times now; each time Dean looked at him and chuckled. "You'd have had that door open a lot faster if you weren't giggling like a girl."

Dean didn't rise to the bait, settling for another laugh as he kept watch at the door. Sam had indeed woken up during the movie, just in time for the army of blood-thirsty clowns to march across the screen. The look on his face and the resulting slap to the back of the head had been worth it. They were in the administrative office now, Dean having picked the lock after the last crewmember had wandered out around ten.

Sam wiped a hand over his face, brushing away the sweat that was ever-present now from his fever. He'd been feeling progressively worse over the last few hours and managed to keep it to himself…he hoped. He gripped the side of the desk as his head swam and he suddenly felt as though he were standing in a furnace. He'd been digging through the passenger manifest for twenty minutes. Thanks to modern technology there were pictures of each passenger which made it easier but he was nearing the end of the list and though there had been dozens of children, not one resembled the sad child he kept seeing.

"He's not here." Sam muttered and clicked through the last few pages, coming to the end. A wave of nausea assaulted him as the heat inside him grew and his head spun. "Dean, I…" Sam turned to find his brother but the motion proved more than his head could handle. The floor seemed to tip beneath him.

Dean turned from the door in time to watch all six feet four inches of little brother collapse to the floor. "Sam!" He slid to his knees beside him and rolled him over. "Dammit!" He cursed, feeling the heat of his skin through Sam's shirt. "Sammy?" He shook him gently and propped him up in his arms. "Come on, kiddo. Wake up." His skin felt like hot, dry paper beneath the sheen of sweat. "Sam." He shook him again, swallowing down his rising panic when Sam still failed to wake. "That's the last time I let you talk me out of something."

He sat Sam up and slid his arms under Sam's shoulders; dragging him back toward the door. "Can't let them…find us in here." Dean reached back to open the door, kicking it out of the way and pulled Sam into the hall. He let the door fall shut and dragged his brother well down the hall toward the elevator before laying him back on the floor.

"Ok, Sammy. Showtime. Help!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs and kept one hand on his brother's chest, over his heart where he could feel it pounding. He called again and sighed in relief when an officer, by the uniform he wore, ran around the corner, eyes wide as he took in the brothers. "My brother's collapsed. We need help!"

"Stay there." The officer said, prompting Dean to roll his eyes as he ran back around the corner out of sight.

"Where the hell are we gonna go?" Dean asked Sam, disgusted. "Anytime you wanna wake up, Sammy." He pushed damp hair off Sam's forehead, willing him to open his eyes. "Please, Sam."

The elevator doors opened beyond them and a team from the sickbay rolled out with a gurney as the officer returned. "Sir, you'll have to move." The taller of the two men gave Dean's shoulder a gentle push before dropping beside Sam. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"There's a cut on his arm that got infected. I'm Dean. He's Sam." Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair as they checked Sam over and lifted him onto the gurney. "He's been feeling kind of off all day and then he just passed out."

"We'll take care of him." The tall man smiled. "I'm Doctor Evans. Why don't you follow us."

"Couldn't stop me." Dean said softly and pushed his way into the elevator with them and his brother. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder as they dropped down through the ship and kept it there as they wheeled him down long halls and into the sickbay. He was pushed aside finally while they set Sam up in a little room all his own. Dean paced around the sickbay while they worked on him and glared at Doctor Evans when he finally came out to talk to him. "How is he?"

"He's going to be fine." Doctor Evans smiled in the face of the contained fury and panic on the young man's face. "We're giving him IV antibiotics right now to fight the infection and they're going to pack some ice around him to bring down his temperature. That's our only worry right now. The infection has driven it up…"

"Doctor?" A nurse called from Sam's room. "He's seizing."

Dean pushed past him into the room and shouldered past the nurse at Sam's side. "Move." Dean took hold of Sam's shoulders, holding him as firmly as he could while his brother's body convulsed.

"Where's the ice?" The Doctor shouted.

Dean watched him fill a syringe and inject it into the IV before he did his best to hold down Sam's legs. A commotion outside heralded the arrival of the ice. Dean refused to move as they packed it around his brother. The tremors wracking Sam's long frame tore at Dean's heart. He felt worthless for letting it get this bad. "Sorry, Sammy." He whispered and then gasped as Sam suddenly went limp.

"It's alright." Doctor Evans said quickly to ward off the terror on the brother's face. "It's the drug I gave him and the ice. He's fine. Look." He pointed to the heart monitor on the other side of the bed where the beat of Sam's heart scrawled over the tiny screen.

"Shit, Sam." Dean said, breathless and leaned back, resting a hand on his brother's too warm head.

"Fever's coming down now." The Doctor said absently, watching the readings on the monitor.

Dean listened as the Doctor gave the nurses orders to replace the ice in half an hour, medications, and he tuned him out. He hooked a stool over with his leg and sat by the head of the bed while the Doctor came back and started unwrapping the bandage on Sam's arm.

"This was cleaned well." Doctor Evans mumbled as he checked the wound. "Good stitches, probably won't leave a scar. He had a good Doctor."

Dean snorted a laugh and dropped his head. "Not good enough apparently."

"Now, Dean. Any Doctor would have underestimated an infection this voracious. As suddenly as you say it took him down, there was likely nothing to be done. It happens." Evens shrugged and smiled. "You know most of the time our bodies handle this stuff on their own. He just got unlucky." He wrapped a fresh bandage around Sam's arm and patted it lightly in place. "Feel free to stay with him. It'll be a few hours before he's back with us."

Dean looked up at him with dark eyes. "He seized, Doc. You're sure he's gonna be ok?"

"Reasonably." The Doctor dropped a hand to Dean's shoulder. "We'll know for certain when he wakes up. Talk to him if you like." He left them alone.

Dean had yet to take his hand from Sam's head and squeezed his shoulder with the other. "Man I wish you'd wake the hell up already." He was pale and flushed at the same time. Dean could feel that the heat in his body had lessened slightly and he pushed some of the bags of ice against him more firmly. He stared at Sam's closed eyes and the rise and fall of his chest and suffered. "This is how you felt, isn't it? In that hospital with me and…Dad." The Doctor saying Sam would be alright and believing it were two very different things. He could only imagine the panic Sam must have felt when the doctors had told him that Dean wouldn't be getting better. He knew what he was feeling now, the hopelessness and fear and the uncertainty of whether he'd be able to go on without Sam in the world. He worried he knew the answer to that question.

"You could throw me a bone here. Blink at me or something." Dean sighed. He rubbed a hand through his hair again and looked up. "Sammy?" He leaned over Sam's face. His eyes were fluttering and a moment later they cracked open to reveal hazy, blue-green eyes.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was soft and rough. His entire body hurt; aching like he'd been beaten and he was so hot yet cold. Confusion swirled through his mind as he tried to focus on his brother's face.

"Hey, tiger." Dean smiled down at him. "There's better ways to find the hot nurses man." Sam stared up at him for a moment and then closed his eyes again. "Hey. Hey, come on, stay with me." But Sam was out again and Dean settled back onto his stool. "Ok. I can wait."

A nurse bustled in with a bucket. She smiled at Dean as she started removing the old, melting ice and replaced the bags with new ones, checking his vitals before she bustled out again. Sam was beginning to shiver lightly and Dean rubbed a hand up and down his arm in sympathy.

"This would have been a lot easier if you'd listened to me and come in here earlier." Dean scowled at him. "We're gonna talk about that later, dude."

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Dean startled awake, snapping his head up from where it rested beside Sam's shoulder on the bed. He shook the cobwebs from his head and glanced up to the monitor. Sam's heart was beating more normally and at some point while he'd been sleeping the ice had been removed and replaced with a blanket. It bothered him that they'd done that without waking him. The sound of raised voices drew his attention and he wondered if that's what had woken him.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean brushed his dark hair from his forehead. "You coming back yet?" Sam's head stirred on the pillow. "That's it, buddy."

More voices shouted from somewhere nearby. "What the hell?" Dean looked out through the door but saw nothing. "Ok. Don't go anywhere, sasquatch. I'm gonna see what's going on."

Sam struggled up through the gauzy layers wrapping his mind with the sound of Dean's voice. He wanted to know what was happening and where he was. He cracked his eyes open and saw a tall shadow moving away from him. Dean. He wanted to call him but his mouth wouldn't cooperate, his voice stalling in a dry throat. Sam's eyes refused to focus, making everything a blur. He watched Dean's figure disappear and frowned, looking to his left. A smaller, shorter blur of a shadow was there in the doorway.

"H…hello?" Sam croaked and coughed. He tried to focus on the blur but the drugs and the exhaustion pulled at him as the shadow drew closer to him. It was short, he thought, no more than a child. Sleep sucked him back under, closing his eyes against his will.

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Dean followed the noise out of the sickbay into the hall. There was a commotion at the other end of the hall and he jogged down to where several people were standing around, staring around a corner.

"What's going on?" Dean asked as he drew even with them and looked around the corner. Several crewmen with fire extinguishers stood outside a door with smoke pouring out at them. "Crap." This close to the sickbay and his brother made him nervous.

"It's just a linen closet or something." A man said next to him. "Heard one of those guys say so." He nodded toward the white uniformed crew.

Dean ignored him and watched the men work at putting out the fire. This little fire niggled at him. If it was a spirit setting them, it made no sense to set one like this when it had already escalated to killing people. He knew well that murderous spirits were a lot like living serial killers; they rarely backtracked once they graduated to actually killing. He just didn't get why it would do this. He wished he'd thought to grab his EMF before they left their room. His nerves began to yell at him; the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he told himself it wouldn't do this. It wouldn't drop back from killing to torching some towels; not without a reason.

"Oh god." Dean spun and raced back down the hall toward the sickbay. He hadn't gone ten steps when the shipboard fire alarm sounded, blaring in his ears. It spurred him faster. He skidded to a stop when the sickbay doors swung open in a cloud of smoke, the Doctor and a nurse emerging to fall to the floor gagging and coughing.

Dean grabbed Doctor Evans roughly and pulled his head up. "Where's my brother? Where is he?"

Doctor Evans couldn't speak. The smoke had burned his throat and was clogging his lungs. He shook his head and pointed back into the sickbay.

"You left him?" Dean growled. "Son of a bitch." Dean stood and took a deep breath. He pushed through the warming doors into an inferno.

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_To Be Continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dean ducked low beneath the roiling smoke and flames crawling across the ceiling. He could feel the heat on his head, shoulder and arms.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and coughed as a cloud of smoke sank low enough to envelop him. He dropped to his knees and crawled under it. "Sammy!" He got back to his feet and staggered as one of the fluorescent lights above him exploded to shower glass fragments down on him. The sound was deafening, the roaring of the flames echoing in his ears. His heart was pounding with adrenaline and fear; his brother was in here alone. More lights burst above him, making him duck to the floor to hide his face and he felt the shards of glass biting into his arms. "Sam!" The heat was sucking the breath from his lungs and the smoke taking what little he had left. He ignored it, covering his mouth and nose with his arm and found Sam's door. Fear stabbed at him when he did. He knew he had left it open only moments before and now it was closed.

Dean reared back and kicked the door in. It flew inside to slam into the wall. He slapped a hand out to stop it coming back at him and for just a moment, stared. The walls and ceiling of the little room were wreathed in flames, seeming to pour upward to wash across the ceiling above Sam's bed. The sight touched something inside Dean, taking the heart out of him.

"Sam." Dean lurched to the bed and gathered his little brother up in his arms. In that moment he didn't care how big he was or how heavy; it didn't matter. He only knew he had to save him from the fire. He stumbled back under Sam's weight and steadied, backing out the door away from the hellish flames as they seemed to reach down from the ceiling. Dean turned and went as fast as he dared. He hunched low over Sam, trying to cover his face with his shoulder while he gasped for air that wasn't there. He had to stop for a second, realizing he'd lost track of where the doors were. Another light shattered above them, raining down more glass. He picked a direction and ran, nearly crying out in relief when he found the doors and pushed through them into the hall.

Dean staggered with the weight of his brother down the hall away from the fiery maelstrom as Crewmen came running from the other direction to converge on the sickbay. He went safely around the corner and dropped to his knees, letting Sam down to rest against the wall. "Sammy?" Dean coughed explosively with the dregs of the smoke and turned to sit beside him, pulling Sam in to his shoulder. "Come on, kiddo."

"Dean? Sam?" Doctor Evans came around the corner, eyes widening in surprise when he saw them. "God, are you alright?"

Dean looked down and saw that his arms were spotted with blood from the exploding lights and figured his shoulders must look as bad. He looked over and brushed a hand through Sam's hair, dislodging a shower of glass to the carpet around them. "Didn't have time to grab the IV's. Sorry." He told the Doctor as the man knelt beside them. When Evans reached for Sam's arm he paused at the fierce look on Dean's face. "You left him in there, Doc."

"Dean…" Doctor Evans looked between the two men and focused on Dean's severe gaze. "I didn't think…"

"No, you didn't." Dean gave him no absolution; there was none in his eyes. "You can set up whatever the hell you want in our room but I'm not leaving him with you again."

The Doctor quailed at the look on the young man's face; it was violence and censure and he knew he deserved it. He'd failed them both saving his own life with no thought for the unconscious man. He nodded. "Alright. I'll…I'll get a gurney."

"I've got him." Dean looked away from the doctor, dismissing him and focused on his brother. "Sam?" He turned Sam's face up to him and gave him a light slap. His skin felt much cooler and he smirked. "Hell of a way to break that fever, Sammy. Wake up now, dude." He grinned when Sam groaned and Dean waited for his eyes to open.

"Make sure you look for a boy!"

Doctor Evan's voice pulled Dean's head around.

"God, I hope he's alright." The Doctor stepped back as the doors were opened and more smoke poured out. "I only saw him for a second but…he must have been terrified." He was telling the crewmen as they filed in, fire extinguishers spraying. "He was crying. He might still be alive!"

Dean felt a cold chill crawl down his spine and looked back to his brother. "Ok. I'm sold. We need to find this crying kid of yours, Sam." It couldn't be a coincidence. As he thought about it he realized that thanks to Sam he could place the kid at the site of every fire since they'd come aboard.

"D…Dean." Sam's voice was raw and tired but he blinked up at his brother's smiling face. "Dude…you c-cuddling me? Wha?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Get a grip, princess." He set Sam back against the wall and smiled. "We're going back to our room."

"No more sickbay?" Sam looked blearily around and wondered why they were on a floor in the hall.

"Just Nurse Dean." Dean grinned when he groaned. "I'll help but you gotta get those flamingo legs under ya." He put his hands under Sam's shoulders and pulled him slowly up until he was standing unsteadily against the wall.

"Wait. Wait." Sam dropped his head as the hall swam around him for a second and coughed. "Why's my chest hurt?"

Dean shook his head and pulled Sam's good arm over his shoulders, supporting him. "Tell you later." He didn't want to tell Sam about the fire, not in the hall and he wasn't all that ready himself to relive it just yet. Dean's insides were still quaking with remembered fear.

They got more than a few odd looks as they made their way back up to their room. One couple got on the elevator, took a good look at the brother's bloodied appearance and got back off while Dean chuckled. "You're scaring the straights, Sammy."

"Bite me." Sam leaned against the wall until the doors opened and let Dean steer him out and down the hall. He was exhausted and he hurt everywhere, as though all his muscles had taken a beating. He was happy however to no longer feel as though he were cooking in his own skin. His fever seemed to have gone and for that he was grateful. He felt as though he could walk on his own but Dean's firm grip around his back seemed to say 'don't even try it.' "It was bad, wasn't it?" Sam asked in a soft voice and felt the single tremor pass through his brother.

"You had a seizure, Sam." Dean informed him as they reached their room and opened the door, kicking it shut behind them. "Next time I say we're going to a damn Doctor, we're going to a damn Doctor. Understood?"

Sam jolted in surprise and understood why all his muscles hurt. "Holy crap." He settled onto the bed and leaned back against the wall before looking up. "I screwed up, huh?"

Dean nodded. "So did I." He shrugged. "I should have made you go and that's on me."

Sam shook his head. "Dude, I'm the one who didn't want to and I'm not a kid." He scowled at Dean. "You can't make me do stuff anymore."

"Wanna bet?" Dean smirked at him and pulled the blanket out, tossing it over Sam's legs. He looked up at a knock on the door. "That's probably the doctor." His tone was anything but happy.

Sam wondered what the man could possibly have done to piss off Dean as his big brother stalked to the door and let him in.

"Dean." Doctor Evans came into the room pulling a cart with him and smiled at Sam. "Hello Sam. How are you feeling?"

"Uh…Sam." Dean gave the doctor a glare to wait and sat next to his brother on the bed, no longer able to put it off. "There was a fire in the sickbay." He watched Sam's eyes widen in shock and nodded. "Bad one. You were kinda out for it."

Sam noticed for the first time that Dean's arms were cut up, spots of blood on his skin and along his shoulders; glass glittering in his hair. "Are you ok?" Sam leaned forward, grabbing one of his arms for a better look but Dean shook him off.

"I'm fine." Dean shook his head, bemused that Sam was more worried about him. He stood and moved aside for the doctor. "Let the Doc fix you up and I'll tell you the rest." He gave Sam a look to let him know there were things that shouldn't be discussed in front of the man and Sam nodded his understanding with a raised brow.

Doctor Evans pulled his cart next to the bed and quickly assembled a portable IV stand, setting it next to him. He sat down with a smile. "You still need more antibiotics, Sam. Your fever seems to have passed but the infection is likely still present." He assessed the look of irritation in the hazel eyes and chuckled. "Just give it twelve more hours. Doctor's orders, A day of bed rest."

"Oh he'll stay there." Dean promised with a glare to his sibling. "If I have to tie him in."

"Dude." Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, ignoring the pinch as the doctor set the new line in his arm.

"He needs fluids." Doctor Evans looked over at Dean, getting a nod. "If you want to eat, Sam, eat." He leaned in and gingerly pulled Sam's shirt away from his shoulders. "Some glass in here. Nothing major though."

"I'll get it." Dean stepped back in.

"Right. Well then." The Doctor stood, the dismissal clear in Dean's face and voice. "I'll check on you tomorrow." He wheeled his cart out and closed the door quietly.

"There a reason you were rude to him?" Sam asked as Dean grabbed up the gauze and antiseptic the Doctor had left on the bed. Dean gave Sam's shirt a tug; a silent order to take it off. "Would have been easier before he put the IV in." Sam groused at him and ended with his shirt hanging on his arm above the line.

Dean chuckled. "Should have thought ahead." He moved up so he could see the small, bleeding wounds from the fluorescent lights and picked up the tweezers. "He left you." Dean said quietly as he removed the first piece of glass. "The whole damn place was burning down and he left you in there." Dean stopped to glance at Sam. "So don't ask me to trust the guy."

Sam shook his head but said nothing. He understood. There was really only one unforgiveable sin in his brother's mind and that was putting him at risk. It was frustrating and heart-warming and he wouldn't change it. Sam tried not to twitch as Dean picked slivers of glass from his shoulders and sighed, relieved when he was finished and patching gauze over them.

"Your turn." Sam took his elbow before Dean could stand. "Your arms are a mess."

"I got this." Dean grinned and pulled free. "I can clean my own damn arms. Get some sleep."

"I'm fine." Sam assured him and scowled when Dean chuckled.

"Dude, the bags under your eyes have their own bags. Sleep." Dean flicked off the light next to the bed and moved the supplies into the bathroom.

Sam wanted to argue, he really did but the dim lights and the soft bed beneath him stole the argument from him as his eyes closed. The last thing he saw was Dean pulling a can of salt from their bag and pouring a line at the cabin door.

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"It's been two days, Dean." Sam watched his brother pace back and forth in their room and sighed.

"I'm aware." Dean growled. Their attempts to find the boy had netted them nothing. He'd finally bowed to Sam's suggestion they call Bobby and ask for his help with the research since the WiFi signal on the ship was spotty at best.

Sam closed his laptop, tired of looking at the internet icon that was mocking him with no signal. "Bobby will find something. He always does." He said surely and meant it. Their adoptive father had been somewhere north of pissed to learn they were stuck on a haunted ship and even more pissed when told of how close Sam had come to being barbecued. Bobby wasn't the only one having trouble with that episode. Sam had had to wake Dean from nightmares twice since then. Both times on jerking awake his older brother had taken firm hold of his arm and just stared at him for a moment before rolling over and going back to sleep; as if making sure he was still there and not burning before his eyes.

"This thing, kid, whatever the hell it is is gonna strike again soon. You know that." Dean stopped his circuit of the room and dropped onto the sofa.

"I know." Sam nodded. The spirit had likely expended a vast amount of energy to do what it did in the sickbay. It's batteries would be recharged any time now. He jumped when his cell rang and fumbled it off the nightstand. "It's Bobby. Hey Bobby." He answered.

"You idjits still in one piece?" Bobby's gruff voice was a welcome sound and Sam smiled.

"Still here. Did you find anything?" Sam lowered his phone and put it on speaker so they could both hear.

Bobby sighed. "It took some digging but I think I found your spook. You aint gonna like it."

"We already don't like it, Bobby." Dean said shortly. "Spill it."

"It's a haunted painting, if I'm right and I usually am." They could hear Bobby rustling papers. "It's called 'The Crying Boy'. Whole history of weirdness with this thing. People dyin', fires, sightings of the boy and my favorite part; every house that burned down cause of this thing, the painting was always pulled out of the ash completely untouched. Not a burn on it."

"How big is this painting?" Sam asked, sitting forward. "Something we could find on a wall around here?"

"Uh…yeah. Problem there." Bobby sighed. "This ghost kid follows any copy of the original."

"Aw come on!" Dean groaned and sat.

"Yep sorry, boys. Thing could be friggin wallet sized." Bobby sat back and adjusted the phone. "You're gonna have to ask around, find out who brought one on board recently. My money's on one of the crew since the fires started before you got on."

"Awesome." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Something has to set him off." Sam said and leaned back. "I mean, if he can haunt any copy of the painting why isn't he burning down every house of everyone who has it? Something has to be pissing him off, triggering him."

"Kindness." Bobby replied sadly. "According to legend, the guy who painted him found him on the streets crying and took him in. Local cops said the kid was bad news; that his parents had died in a fire and fires followed him. No one would touch him til this guy, priest by the way. Anyway, he painted the kid and took care of him. Year later his house burns to the ground. The Priest lost it and turned the kid back out on the streets." He tossed his papers onto his desk with a disgusted look. "Few weeks later the kid turned up dead; burned in a fire."

"Sammy's big heart strikes again." Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. "You just had to be nice to the little ghost kid."

"I didn't know!" Sam threw his arms up in frustration. "I saw a crying kid, dude. Maybe if I'd gotten closer I'd have felt a cold spot or something but….there was nothing."

"Don't think it takes much, kiddo." Bobby smirked, listening to them and wished they were off the damn boat and safe already. "Witness reports are full of people seeing a crying boy and smiling at him or waving, couple people offered him money. I think he just fixates on anyone who shows him kindness. He's waitin' to get kicked."

Sam couldn't help but feel sympathy for the child; murderous or not. He'd lost his parents to fire, been shunned by everyone around him and tossed aside by the only person to show him kindness. "This sucks."

"I know, kid." Bobby nodded at the phone. "Look you can't just salt and burn this thing. We already know that don't work."

"Then what?" Dean stood and started pacing again. "Gotta be some way to pull this kid's batteries."

Bobby scrubbed a hand down his face and picked his phone back up. "You can drop it in a curse box." He hated suggesting it.

Sam and Dean both looked over to the duffel in the corner with Bobby's curse box inside. "I thought you told us not to open that thing for any reason." Dean asked, scowling.

"I know, dammit but I don't see where you got a lot of choice here." Bobby had already tried to find some other way and failed. "You're gonna need precautions before you open it."

"What's in it, Bobby?" Sam asked. "Can you tell us now?"

There was a long pause before Bobby finally spoke. "A Tulpa."

"Oh. That's just…seriously?" Dean asked angrily and strode over to stare down at the box. "We're carrying one of those bastards around and you didn't think we should know?" He had vivid memories of the last Tulpa they'd hunted trying to strangle Sam's head off his neck with a damn axe.

"It's safe in the damn box, Dean." Bobby growled through the phone. "Wasn't no reason to worry you." He fidgeted and sighed. "It's a damn nasty one. Fellow Hunter trapped it in that box about a hundred years ago. Went on a rampage during a masked ball in Brazil, killed a dozen people before he caught it."

"What was it?" Sam too was staring over at the box in its bag as though it had suddenly grown fangs. "What idea did it turn into?"

"You always liked Poe Sam." Bobby told him. "So I know you read Masque of the Red death."

Sam nodded. "Yeah of course…" He trailed off and put a hand over his face. "Let me guess. The ball was an Edgar Allen Poe something or other."

"Yeah." Bobby shook his head. "Hundreds of people all in one place, all thinkin' of the same twisted stories. The Tulpa had a damn feeding frenzy."

"So we've got a box in our room with a Tulpa who ate up every sick killer Poe ever came up with?" Dean tossed his hands in the air and flopped back onto the couch. "Yeah, we didn't need to know that and now you want us to open the damn thing."

"Son, you gimme any more lip I will row my ass out to that damn boat just to slap you." Bobby growled at him. "I don't like it either but you should be able to make it safe enough."

"Enough?" Dean looked over to Sam and saw his worry reflected.

"Salt circle, should have plenty of that around there. Some runes drawn around the circle, I'll email those to Sam." Bobby pulled a sheet forward to look at it. "It'll try to get out of the box but the salt and runes should keep it from escaping long enough for you to toss the painting in."

"I don't like this, Bobby." Sam said finally. "If it goes wrong we unleash an even worse killer on the ship."

"I know, Sam. I do." Bobby raised his eyes heavenward in silent prayer. "But this crying boy of yours is already on the warpath. You gotta do something before he burns that boat out from under you and this is your best option." He waited for more argument and sighed relieved when it didn't come. "Now, you're gonna wanna make sure you keep…"

A sudden burst of static came through the phone followed by a high pitched whine and the line went dead. "Bobby?" Sam grabbed the phone and frowned. "Dammit. He's gone." He tried to dial him back but there was no signal.

The ship lurched suddenly, jerking both Sam and Dean slightly where they sat before a horn sounded outside.

"What the hell was that?" Dean stood and went to the door where they could hear footsteps running. He opened it and looked out. Passengers stood in small groups up and down the hall, some looking confused and others frightened while crewmen jogged among them. "Hey!" Dean grabbed the nearest uniformed man. "What's happening?"

"Sir, if you'd just stay in your cabin." The man smiled tightly at him. "There's a slight problem with the ship. Nothing to worry about. We'll be back under way shortly."

"We're dead in the water?" Dean asked, surprised. The crewmen didn't answer, pulling his arm free and continuing down the hall. Dean shut the door and turned back to his brother. "This can't be good."

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_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Dean and Sam loitered outside the bridge. On an American line they likely wouldn't have gotten anywhere near it but the Venezuelan ship was smaller and security just not that tight, especially when half the crew was busy trying to avert disaster. The Captain, an older man with a head of curly black hair was shouting in Spanish at various people as they came and went. Sam had his head almost permanently cocked to the side as he worked to translate. Dean stood beside him and made sure they didn't get run down or run off.

"Navigator's saying he doesn't know when it happened." Sam scowled. "Pretty sure the Captain just insulted his mother and wants it fixed….now he's yelling at someone from the engine room about getting them moving again."

"Wants what fixed?" Dean moved Sam back an inch as another crewman barreled out of the bridge.

"Navigation." Sam's eyes popped open and he stared at Dean. "Dude, the ship's been running blind for almost a day. If I'm understanding the Navigator in there, he has no idea where we are and communications are out as well now." He raised his brows. "About ten seconds after the Navigator figured out we were off course."

"Well isn't that convenient." Dean did his best to quell the worry. "So they don't even know where we are?"

Sam shook his head and turned listening again. "None of the radios are working…" He paused. "No other ships in sight…" Sam chuckled and looked back. "Think the Navigator just suggested the Captain use some hot air and send up smoke signals."

Dean snorted a laugh. "I think I like that guy."

"So we're not moving, even if we were they wouldn't know where and no contact with other ships or the mainland." Sam sighed and thumped back against the wall. "How the hell are we gonna do this?" He needed Bobby's email and the runes to open the Curse box.

"Oops. We've been spotted." Dean saw one of the crew in a white uniform turn and stare at them. He took Sam's arm and pulled him away down the hall and around the corner.

"Ow." Sam took his arm back and rubbed over the bandage.

"Crap, sorry." Dean steered them to the elevator.

"It's ok. Just sore." Sam smiled. The cut on his arm was finally healing properly. The nicks in his shoulders from the glass in the sickbay hurt more than his arm did. They stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut just as the man who'd been watching them rounded the corner. "Too bad we can't just go FBI on them."

Dean shook his head. "We'd be busted the second the ship hit shore." It would make things easier but he wasn't willing to risk being arrested for it, not closed in a ship. There were only so many places to escape too.

"One smart damn ghost for a kid." Sam leaned against the wall as they went down. "To figure out he could short out the ship's electrical systems."

"Well he's had lots of practice." Dean slapped a hand out to the wall when the small elevator shimmied and then stopped. "We're not at our floor yet, are we?"

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes. "Crap." He looked up to Dean's wide eyes with a rueful smile. "Why didn't we take the stairs?"

"Cause we're stupid. Obviously. Our buddy Sparkie's got a taste for the damn wiring now." Dean braced his arms wide as the car shook harder and the lights flickered. He glanced at the floors above the door; they were still seven floors up in the ship. "Ok, we _might_ not die on impact."

"How about we not stick around to find out." Sam pulled the small knife from the back of his belt and went to the door, wedging it between the halves of the door. Dean came up beside him and squeezed his fingers into the small gap Sam created turning the blade. "Pull."

"What do you think…I'm doing?" Dean growled and took hold of one half as Sam moved the knife and grabbed the other. The elevator jerked again as the pushed the door open to reveal the bottom half of the door on the floor above. Before Dean could even reach up the car dropped. He had no time to do more than toss his arms over his head to protect it as they were thrown up toward the ceiling.

Sam grunted with the impact, swallowing hard against the weightless feeling and felt Dean beside him. The elevator car stopped, dropping them in a heap and then shot upward, pressing them into the floor. He landed on top of Dean. "Sorry." He moved his arm, knowing he'd accidentally elbowed his brother in the stomach.

The car stopped again and the doors slid open on a startled group of tourists. "Oh mah gawd! What are you boys doin'?" A large woman with bleached blonde curls stared down at them in disapproval.

"Uh…" Sam rolled off Dean and got to his knees.

Dean pulled himself up with the railing above his head with a groan. "Lady, you don't wanna know."

"I'm sure I don't." She sniffed at them as they staggered off the elevator.

Sam took Dean's arm as he stumbled. "Hit your head?"

Dean nodded and rubbed a hand over the lump on top of his head. "Got my bell rung on the landing. I'm good." He looked up as Sam opened a door to the stairs and rubbed a hand over the sore spot on his stomach as they hiked down the first flight. "Really starting to hate this little kid."

"We need to start with the crew." Sam said as they went down the three decks to their own. "Cleaning staff again, kitchens, maintenance. Someone's seen the painting or the kid or both. It's been on this boat for weeks."

"We'll try the kitchens first." Dean smirked. "Gotta see if Jenny's alright you know."

"Right." Sam rolled his eyes as they pushed out the door on their deck. "I'll try the engine room."

"Nope. You're comin' with me." Dean ignored the dirty look on his brothers' face. "We're not splitting up Sam. You've got a target on your back now."

"Dean, I can…" Sam started but Dean cut him off with a severe look.

"Nope. We're stickin' together." Dean didn't look at him as they walked. He knew Sam was able to take care of himself but with the fires and having to pull him out of that inferno in the sickbay he wasn't willing to let Sam out of his sight. "Don't argue with me on this. It's non-negotiable."

"Dean…" Sam opened his mouth and then closed it. "Fine." He smiled at the surprised look on his brother's face and followed him. Dean wasn't the only one who could sometimes read his sibling like an open book. While he didn't remember the fire, he could easily see its aftermath in every glance. "Too bad we can't get away with carrying the shotgun around."

Dean chuckled and nodded. "Probably lock us up as terrorists."

They passed fewer passengers as they headed for their room than Dean thought they would and those they saw had scared looks on their faces. He could almost feel the tension in the air as a palpable thing. A ship full of people who were now aware someone was setting fires, people had died and the engines were dead; if they didn't fix this soon it'd be outright panic.

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Sam rubbed a hand over his shoulder to work out the ache from his meeting with the elevator ceiling. They were actually having trouble moving around the ship outside the clear passenger areas. The crew was determined to keep them where they could control them. Getting down to the kitchens had involved ducking into several closets and one very surprised couple's room where Dean had swiped a cookie from their complimentary basket on his way out the door.

"Dude, you're hopeless." Sam chuckled as Dean brushed cookie crumbs off his shirt.

"Dodging Porters makes me hungry." Dean grinned and turned down the last set of stairs to the kitchen level.

"Engine Room is near here." Sam said and looked past the kitchen doors. "I could have a look, see if one of the engineers knows anything."

"We will." Dean said firmly. "Soon as we talk to the kitchen staff."

Sam rolled his eyes up in frustration. The long, fluorescent light above them flickered. "Uh…Dean?" He stopped and reached a hand out toward his brother. The light chose that moment to explode. Sam threw his arm over his eyes to protect as heated glass showered on his head. He grunted when he felt Dean tackle him away and saw stars as the back of his head thumped into the floor. "Guh."

"Sam?" Dean leaned up and looked back. Small tendrils of smoke wafted out from the destroyed fixture and more lights in the hall began to flicker. "Sammy?" Dean looked back down and winced as his brothers eyes rolled in his head. "Sorry about that." He got to his knees and for the first time, shivered as the spirits presence lowered the temperature around them. Dean's breath frosted the air in front of him as he turned and found himself face to face with the crying boy. "Shit!" Dean jerked to his feet, waiting for his next move.

The little boy watched Dean and then looked past him to Sam with lethal intent. Dean's eyes widened and then narrowed. He fixed a dangerous glare on the boy's blue eyes with the threat clear in his own as he stepped in front of Sam. The look in Dean's eyes said 'screw with my little brother and I will end you. I will bring you back just so I can kill you again. I will make you scream in the lowest level of Hell for the rest of eternity.' The boy's teary eyes widened in something close to fear for a second and he took a step back.

"Not so far gone you can't understand, are ya?" Dean asked; his voice low and dangerous. The boy retreated another step before flickering out of sight.

"Dean." Sam gave his head a shake, happy when his two brothers merged into one. "You ok?"

"Should be asking you." Dean reached down and took the arm Sam held up, pulling him to his feet. "All your marbles where they belong?" He looked into Sam's eyes, happy to see them steady now.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Let's move before he comes back." He looked up at the blown light and shook his head. "Wonder why he didn't just torch us?"

Dean headed for the kitchen doors with a small smile; he was fairly sure he knew. Even a ghost could be intimidated. The scene in the kitchens was far more subdued than the last time Dean had been there. While the cooks were still dodging back and forth the level of sound was muted and there was a significant empty space toward the center and the blackened area around the stove that had been set alight.

"Dean!" Jenny spotted them and came quickly over. Bandages wrapped down her arm from elbow to wrist. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, we're good." Dean smiled warmly at her. "This is my brother, Sam."

"Hi." Sam smiled as well. "Is your arm ok?"

"Oh, oh yeah." Jenny rubbed a hand over it. "Just a few burns. Poor Jorge." Her eyes saddened and Dean laid an arm over her shoulders.

"Sorry." Dean said, voice kindly and drew her away toward the doors and relative peace. "Jenny, we wanted to ask you some questions."

Her brows rose and she looked between them. "Are you guys like, off duty cops or something?"

"Or something." Dean nodded. "We really can't say, not on American soil, you know?"

"Oh wow." Jenny stared up at him and then winced. "God I hit on you." She covered her face with a hand and Dean chuckled.

He bent low over her. "It was mutual." He said softly.

Sam rolled his eyes and left them there, wading into the cooks to start asking for information on their painting. Twenty minutes of chatting up the cooks netted him a few suggestions that they talk to Mario in the engine room who they thought might have seen the little boy and a few cookies; fresh out of the ovens with the chocolate chips still running as Sam passed them from hand to hand and blew to cool them off before biting into one with a moan of pleasure. He spotted Dean off to the side with Jenny and another cook. Sam raised his brows as Dean dropped a kiss on Jenny's blushing face before coming over to meet him.

"Got a lead." Sam said around a mouthful of cookie.

"Dude. Cookies?" Dean stared at them with avarice.

Sam smirked. "Mine." He moved the second cookie away but let Dean snatch it out of his hand. "Sugar junkie."

"Says the guy with chocolate on his chin." Dean grinned and bit into it. "Get anything?"

Sam nodded and finished off his cookie before pushing out into the hall. "Got a lead. They say there's a guy in Engineering who's seen the crying boy and a painting that looked like him."

Dean followed Sam as he turned left deeper into the ship. "Got the same story from Jenny and some of the others. Surprised the guy's still alive."

"Could be the boy didn't see him." Sam shrugged. "Lucky for him."

As they neared Engineering Dean looked up and down the hall and toward the doors. "Ok. Kinda weird there's no guards down here like everywhere else."

"Maybe they didn't expect anyone to get down here?" Sam reached the door and pulled it open. It looked more like a hatch in a submarine; heavy, metal and swung out on thick gimbals. "Well that inspires confidence." He stepped into the ante-chamber with Dean and pulled the second door open. The thick metal had muffled the noise and it washed out over them. A siren blared and voices yelled.

"Aw hell. I know this music." Dean groaned and followed him inside. The scent of smoke tickled the back of his throat. Sam coughed lightly beside him. "Our boy's been at work down here."

Sam followed the sound of yelling voices through the hall and into a maze of walkways and stairs through the large engine room. Smoke poured from the far end of the chamber up from a large door that several men were trying to push closed. He looked up above the door and stumbled to a stop. "Dean."

Dean followed his brother's pointing hand and cursed. The crying boy stood on a ledge above the door and flickered away as they watched. "Little bastard. We have got to find that damn painting and now."

The siren that had greeted them was joined by another, blaring even louder. Dean's head whipped to the left as he heard the screeching of metal. "Sam!" He grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him backward as a pipe beside them burst a valve. Water shot in a geyser across where they'd been standing.

"Ok that would have sucked." Sam covered his ears for a moment against the noise of the alarms. "Come on." He yelled and ducked beneath the horizontal stream of water. He didn't have to look at Dean to know he would want them to just get out but they needed to find the painting. That was the most important thing. Without it, the ship would burn down around them long before they got to shore so he pressed on, making Dean follow him down. They flattened themselves out of the way as several engineers flew up the stairs and past them toward the leaking pipe. Sam was focused on the smoke. He knew there had to be a reason the boy had set that particular fire.

Dean scowled as they neared the bottom of the deck and he saw two men dragging another out of the door where smoke was still billowing.

"Hey! You need to get out of here!" A man ran up to them, waving his arms.

"We've got medical training!" Dean replied above the din and pointed to the prone man. "We might be able to help."

The man looked at them and then threw his hands up. "Alright, just…be careful. Gone crazy down here."

Sam brushed past him and headed for the downed man. As he neared he heard on of the men bending over him and sighed.

"Mario? Come on, man."

"Let us have a look." Sam knelt and put a hand to the neck of their only lead, resigned to the worst and smiled in surprise when he felt the steady beat of a heart. "Holy crap. Dean, he's alive."

"Let's keep him that way." Dean bent and got a good look at Mario. He wasn't burned anywhere he could see which likely meant the smoke had taken him down though his black hair was singed on the left side of his head. "Get him up." With Sam's help they got the stricken man sitting, then standing and Dean tipped him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"We're gonna take him up to sickbay." Sam told the man hovering over them. "He'll be fine I think."

Getting out of the Engineering section went less eventfully, Sam commenting that the spirit must have exhausted himself again. Dean looked longingly at the elevator as they passed it toward the stairs; even carrying the extra burden of Mario he was unwilling to risk a repeat of earlier. The doors slid open behind them with a soft ding. They turned, expecting another attack and instead were greeted by the surprised face of Doctor Evans.

"Doctor!" Sam smiled. "We've got a man here who needs you."

"So I see!" Doctor Evans stepped out and was followed by another with a gurney and medical kit. "Lay him down here."

Dean strode over and carefully laid Mario on the gurney. "Doc, we really need this guy up and talking fast."

Doctor Evans stared at him and Sam before turning to his patient. "Well I can't make any promises. I haven't even assessed him yet." He glanced back at them. "We have a makeshift sickbay set up on deck five near the lounge. You can come check on him later. Come on." He waved to the man with him and they pushed the gurney back on to the elevator.

"Well now what?" Dean asked as the doors closed.

"We try to get hold of Bobby again." Sam said firmly. "I need those symbols he was sending me. A salt circle isn't going to be enough to hold in the Tulpa."

"Dammit." Dean turned toward the stairs. "They have to get the electronics up again soon, right?"

"Maybe." Sam followed, not at all sure of that. "If the boy wants to keep the ship cut off, he can. He knows how now." He began sorting through all the protective symbols he knew in his head, trying to find whatever Bobby had found; hoping he already had the knowledge somewhere if they couldn't wait for the phones and internet to come back online.

"Well I say we go camp out in the Doc's new digs." Dean told him, climbing the stairs two at a time. "Keep pyro-boy from finishing what he started with our engineer buddy." Sam nodded absently behind him as Dean glanced back. "Sam? You paying attention?"

"Thinking." Sam said simply.

Dean chuckled and left him to it. "Geek boy."

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Doctor Evans shook his head at the two men currently sleeping lightly in the chairs in his temporary office. Dean's feet rested on his desk, his chair tipped back with his head against the wall. Sam, on the other hand, had somehow managed to fold his tall frame into the small chair with a laptop wedged against his chest, under his chin.

"Dean." The Doctor nudged the man's shoulder, stifling a laugh when he jerked awake and nearly tipped over backwards. "Mario's awake. More or less." He turned to wake up his brother but Dean took his arm and pulled him back.

"Let him sleep." Dean ordered and stood, stretching. "Doesn't do enough of that. Trust me." He followed the Doctor out of the office and into another, smaller room where Mario was propped up in a bed. Dark, bleary eyes lazily tracked as Dean stepped into the room.

"Doc?" Mario said in a hoarse voice and coughed. Doctor Evans quickly held a cup and straw to the man's mouth, letting him sip for a moment.

"Mario. This is Dean." Doctor Evans nodded to the other man. "He has a few things he'd like to ask you. He carried you out of Engineering."

"Oh. Thanks, man." Mario smiled wanly up at him. "I don't know what I can tell you."

"Well, it's gonna sound a little strange." Dean pulled a stool over and sat next to the head of the bed. "We're looking for a little boy. He uh…he's usually crying?"

Mario nodded. "I've seen him." He rubbed a hand over his chest, grimacing in discomfort. "A few times. I thought…I thought I saw him in the engine room before the fire but…that's just…he wouldn't be in there."

Dean nodded, saying nothing but having his theory confirmed. "Have you seen him anywhere else? A picture…or maybe a painting of him?"

Mario looked up in surprise and nodded. "Yeah! I could swear I saw a little painting that looked just like him a few weeks ago."

"Where?" Dean leaned forward. "This is important. Do you remember where you saw it?"

"In the Captain's quarters." Mario shrugged. "I was fixing one of the plumbing lines up there and it was hanging on the wall behind his desk."

Dean leaned back and sighed. Of course it would be the Captain. "Thanks, Mario."

"Sure." Mario smiled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

"Doc?" Dean motioned and left the room with the doctor behind him. "Look, I can't really explain but uh, you should keep a fire extinguisher handy while Mario's here." He watched the man's brows rise and shook his head. "Don't ask, just trust me and do it and don't leave him alone."

"You're saying he's in danger somehow." Doctor Evans studied Dean's serious face. "This boy is somehow behind this. The one I saw in the sickbay before the fire."

Dean nodded. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Be careful."

"What are you going to do exactly?" The doctor asked as Dean went back to his office.

"Deal with it." Dean muttered and didn't elaborate. "Sammy." He turned into the doctor's office and dropped a hand on his brother's shoulder to wake him.

Sam's eyes popped open and he sat up, nearly dropping the laptop. "I wasn't sleeping."

Dean chuckled. "Uh huh. Come on. I know where the painting is."

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Sam stood nervously in the hall outside the Captain's quarters, keeping watch while his brother was inside. He wrinkled his nose; the smell of smoke permeated the air but it was weak, as though the fire that caused it had come and gone. The door across from him opened and Dean strode out.

"That was fast." Sam said softly. Dean had only been in the room for a minute or two.

"It's been torched." Dean informed him, expression dark. "Room's pretty much empty of everything including the painting."

"Dammit." Sam thought for a moment and then looked up. "I've got an idea but I need one of those white jackets." He started off down the hall with Dean at his side.

"Wanna share with the rest of the class?" Dean slapped the back of his brother's arm as they walked.

"If the room's empty, they must have taken anything that survived and put it somewhere." Sam turned down a hall and quickly found what he wanted; a door marked 'staff'. "We know that includes the painting because it's never burned in the fires. The Ship's Porter will know where the Captain's things were sent." Sam pulled the door open and smiled. He reached in and came out with a white Steward's jacket. "I'm gonna ask." He pulled the jacket on and scowled when Dean laughed.

"Give it here, sasquatch." Dean grinned and waited while Sam shrugged it back off. The sleeves had ridden halfway to his elbows and stretched across his shoulders. "Freakin mutant." Dean shot his arms into the sleeves and pulled it on. They were a little short on him as well but not as noticeable as it had been on his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes and shut the door. "Come on, then. Porter's office is this way."

Dean strode into the Porter's office as though he belonged there and smiled at the older man behind the desk. "Hey. The Captain wants something that was moved from his room." Dean sighed as though long suffering and shook his head. "Guy suddenly wants some book they packed off with the rest of his stuff and I have to go find it."

"And you're bothering me with this because?" The Ship's Porter glared up at Dean, unimpressed.

"I don't know where they put his stuff after the fire." Dean shrugged. "I only came on at the last stop. How the hell do I know?"

"Oh." The Porter's angry expression dimmed somewhat. "Well, it's in one of the aft storage compartments. He didn't want them in his new room. The smoky smell was making him cough."

"Right. Which one?" Dean smiled again. "I really need to find this book and get it back to him before he comes looking for me. You know how he is." From what Sam had translated up by the bridge, he had the feeling the Captain wasn't a popular guy and the suddenly amused expression on the Porter's face proved him right.

"Compartment twelve, Deck 9 aft." The Porter waved at the door. "Go on then. I've got my own work to do."

"Thanks man." Dean left quickly and met his brother outside. "We're in business."

"We should bring the curse box to the painting." Sam said suddenly. "I don't think we want to try carrying the painting through the ship to our room. I don't think the boy will let us do that."

"Good idea. You figure out what symbols to use to make the Tulpa play nice?" Dean looked over at him and frowned. "That is not your confident face, Sammy."

Sam chuckled. "I think so. Honestly, I'm guessing, Dean." He rubbed a hand over his head, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "It's all we've got without access to Bobby."

"Well, I'll trust your geek brain any day." Dean smirked as they jogged down the first flight of stairs.

"Gee, thanks." Sam laughed.

A strange vibration rolled up through the metal treads of the stairs into their legs, stopping them cold. A second later there was the sound of an explosion from somewhere distant in the ship.

"Sam?" Dean asked. He barely had time to wrap his hands around the railing as the ship slewed sideways. "Crap!" He took one hand off the rail and slapped it out to catch his brother as he tumbled past. Dean caught the neck of his shirt to stop his headlong roll down the stairs.

"What the hell's going on?" Sam yelled. He reached over and took hold of the rail beside his brother and pulled himself to it, getting a better grip. The movement of the ship was making his stomach roll in sympathy. Sirens blared to life, deafening in the confines of the stairwell.

"Not good." Dean gasped and pulled himself up the stairs. "Come on. We gotta find out what the hell's wrong now."

The ship listed further to the side with a jerk, pulling Dean's hand from the rail. He went over backward into his brother, taking them both down the lopsided stairs in a pinwheel of arms and legs while the alarms screamed and voices began to rise in panic in the distance.

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_To Be Continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sam groaned with pain shooting behind his left ear. He'd found the wall with his head just before Dean had landed atop him. "Dean." He shoved at the weight on his legs.

"Ow." Dean's head spun as the ship lurched again. He was fairly sure he had the impression of the stair railing on his forehead.

"Crap. Hang on!" Sam wrapped his arms around his brother's chest as the stairwell tilted. He wedged his feet against the railing and the wall and tried to keep them from sliding and tried not to worry about the way Dean's head was lolling on his shoulders.

"Next time…put my ass…on the plane." Dean muttered and gave his head a shake, willing his eyes to uncross. He put an arm out to brace himself against the wall as the ships' sideways motion finally settled. "You wanna stop hugging me now or you need another minute?"

Sam snorted a laugh and let him go. "Next time I'll let you go down the stairs." He waited for Dean to pull himself to his feet and took the hand offered, letting his brother pull him up as well. "Damn, Dean." Sam brushed fingers over the welt on Dean's forehead. "You seeing straight?"

Dean slapped his hand away, bad tempered and then snapped a hand out to Sam's neck. He pulled it back and held up fingers with blood on the tips. "Should be asking you that! Come here." He manhandled Sam against his protests to get a look and found a new welt behind his right ear and a small cut.

"Dude, get off." Sam put a hand over the spot to protect it, ignoring the pain. "I'm fine and we don't have time for this." He started down the stairs.

Dean stomped after. "Where are we going, concussion-boy?"

"Bite me. Engineering." Sam put a hand out to the wall and held on to the railing as the ship swayed again but settled quickly. "The deck officer should remember us helping Mario. He'll be more likely to give us answers than the bridge."

Dean couldn't fault his logic. As they reached the engineering level a siren sounded throughout the ship. "Oh come on!" Dean shook his head and broke into a jog.

"Dean." Sam caught up with him. "Dean, I think that's the abandon ship alarm. If I'm right the Captain should be on soon to…" He broke off as the heavily accented voice of the Captain came over the ship's loudspeakers to inform them there was no need to panic, that passengers should collect in the designated emergency points on the top deck, follow crew orders, move quietly and calmly… "Oh crap."

"Sometimes I hate it when you're right." Dean said ruefully and pulled open the heavy door to Engineering.

"So do I." Sam followed him in, stepping through the antechamber and then clapped his hands over his ears at the volume of noise and sound. Above the claxons and shouting voices was a high-pitched, metal screech that drove a spike of pain into his abused skull.

Dean shot a hand out to his shoulder; steadying Sam when he swayed with his eyes squeezed shut. "One too many knocks on your melon today, dude." He turned Sam around and guided him back out of Engineering and into the hall, shutting the door firmly and locking away the noise.

Sam groaned and lowered his hands slowly as the memory of the noise still beat a tattoo behind his eyes. "New plan." He blinked to find Dean staring at him in concern. "You go talk to the deck officer. I'll go get the box and the other stuff we need and meet you in the storage hold."

"No way." Dean argued but Sam shook his head.

"They're getting ready to abandon ship, Dean. We don't have a lot of time here." Sam willed him to understand. "What if the ghost beats them to it? Sets the whole damn thing afire? People, more people will die. Maybe all of them and us. We can't let that happen. We can't take the chance."

Dean growled, trying and failing to come up with an argument that didn't sound as though he was simply being over-protective. "I don't like it."

Sam smirked and clapped him on the shoulder before starting away. "Don't get caught by the crew and evacuated without me."

Dean watched him go and sighed. He went back into Engineering and winced at the sounds. It hurt his own head. "This sucks." He muttered. He retraced his steps from earlier in the day down to the main floor. People ran back and forth, up and down the many levels of stairs. Instructions were shouted and most of the voices were anything but calm. Dean spotted the deck officer they'd spoken too yesterday and grabbed him as he dashed past.

"Hey! What's happened?" Dean watched the man look at him and saw the moment he remembered Dean's face.

"Engine malfunction." The man scrubbed a hand over his face. "One's dead and the other started running flat out. Almost heeled the ship over into the drink."

"Yeah we noticed." Dean gestured to his forehead with a smirk.

"Ouch. Yeah. Well." The man looked around. "You should get up to the evac points."

"Why? Look, what's happening?" Dean was determined to get an answer.

"We had to disconnect the rotors on the starboard engine so…" He took a deep breath, steadying himself under the intense green gaze. "We're not moving anymore which is good but the engine is still running full throttle. It's going to burn out."

"And burn up. That's what you're saying." Dean watched his nod with a sinking feeling.

"Half the systems are over-loading. It doesn't make any damn sense." The man jerked his head up at several shouts. "Look, you should get topside. You and your partner." He took off at a run leaving Dean looking after with a new level of stress.

"We're on the damn Titanic." Dean groaned and started back up quickly. "This is not happening."

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Sam quickly tossed the can of salt into the bag with the curse box and made sure he had several markers for the symbols he'd need. He looked forlornly at his laptop on the bed for a moment. He'd hoped that maybe this once they'd get lucky but the internet signal remained stubbornly down. He wished they could wait or find another way or even just toss the damn painting overboard. Sam shook his head. Even if that would work, and he wasn't sure it would, no chance the ghost would let them get his painting anywhere near the deck or a porthole big enough before barbecuing them or the whole of the ship. He hefted the duffel and went to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. There were raised voices in the hall; crewmen ordering people out of their rooms. They drew closer and he frowned.

"Dammit." Sam knew there was no way for him to get out without being spotted. He looked hastily around the room and smiled. He went quickly to the closet. It took some work to squeeze himself in. He was taller than the low ceiling and ended up standing with his head bent over and the duffel at his feet. Sam froze when he heard the room door open.

"Hello?"

Sam heard the man enter and caught a glimpse of a white shirted shoulder as he went past the closet, presumable to check the bathroom before coming back.

"Room's clear."

He heard the man call and let out a relieved breath when the door closed. "That was close." Sam eased himself out of the closet with the bag and went to the door. He could hear other passengers in the hall arguing with the crew and even a couple crying children as feet went past his door. He needed to leave and meet his brother below but was forced to wait. Every minute he spent with his ear to the door listening made him nervous for his brother; down in the bowels of the ship somewhere without him.

"Dammit, hurry up." Sam muttered and checked his watch. "How long can it possibly take to clear a damn floor?" Ten long minutes later he decided it had been quiet long enough. He eased the door open and peered out into the empty hall. "About damn time."

Sam jogged down the hall to the stairs, listening and hearing nothing he pelted down them as fast as he dared. With luck the crew wouldn't be looking for stragglers below decks and they could work uninterrupted with everyone topside. He had to make a mad dash out of the stairs at the last passenger level and find a room to hide in as he heard a large group of people coming up the stairs. Sam tugged open the door to a maintenance room and shut it quickly, waiting for silence. He gave it an extra minute after they'd passed before coming out again. He went back to the stairs and thankfully heard voices only from above. He went down the stairs as quietly and as quickly as he could. He reached the engineering level and couldn't help the surprised yelp as an arm grabbed him in the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean tugged Sam out of the stairs. He checked his brother over, looking for signs of new injuries and only found a disgusted look on his face.

"Dean." Sam handed him the duffel bag with the curse box. "Almost got picked up for evacuation by the crew. What?" He gave Dean an amused glance. "You get lonely without me?"

"Whatever, bitch. Come on." Dean rolled his eyes and turned down the hall away from Engineering. "Storage is on the other side of the deck."

"Jerk." Sam retorted, unable to stop himself. "So why'd the ship almost tip over? How screwed are we really?"

Dean filled him in as they went, Sam's face mirroring his own worry that they were on borrowed time. "This is it." Dean stopped at a set of double doors and pushed them open. "Lock on here was a joke." He smirked. "You coulda picked it when you were eight dude."

Sam laughed and followed him down yet another hall, their steps silent on the carpeting . Doors lined both sides of the hall, each with a number and Dean counted as he went. They turned a corner and halfway down he found the door he wanted.

"This one." Dean bent and smirked. "Same crappy lock."

"I got it." Sam knelt and drew his picks from his back pocket.

There was another round of sirens and more vibrations passed through the deck at their feet. "This ghost of yours is gonna take this damn boat out from under us."

Sam nodded and turned the knob, opening the door. He stood and flicked on the light. "Don't go near the painting until I get the box ready. We don't want to tip him off."

The storage room was spacious, thirty feet square at least. Along one side were stacks of boxes and a few pieces of furniture from the Captain's quarters. The light was a single bulb hanging from the ceiling that swayed with the ships' motion.

"Tell me you brought a flashlight." Dean asked, eyeing the swinging bulb dubiously.

"In the bag, yeah." Sam went to the center of the room and set the bag down. He carefully took out the curse box and set it on the steel floor then tossed the flashlight to Dean. "Brought you this too." Sam tossed his EMF meter to him, making Dean grin.

"There's my baby." Dean nodded his thanks and flipped it on. The needle twitched but stayed on the low end of the scale. "So far so good."

Sam poured a thick circle of salt in a wide ring around the curse box. He then took out one of the markers and started drawing symbols on the floor inside and outside of the circle. He couldn't shake the bad feeling as he worked that this was all going to go wrong. He desperately wanted to see the symbols Bobby had sent.

"It'll work, Sam." Dean said suddenly. He knew his brother too well and could easily read the expression on his face.

"We hope." Sam said without looking up and started another complex symbol.

"It will." Dean said surely. "Cause it can't go any other way."

Sam smirked. "Dean Winchester has spoken."

"Damn right." Dean smiled. The floor vibrated again beneath their feet and it was followed by a rumble. "Starting to think we need to get the hell off this tin can."

Sam stood and dusted off his hands, putting the marker away. "Ok. I think that's it." He saw the look on his brother's face and shrugged. "It's the best I can do man."

"Let's find grumpy ghost's painting then." Dean went to the row of boxes. "You stay in the circle and open that thing when I find it. We'll toss it and slap it shut." He pulled open the first box, seeing nothing but clothes and moved on to the next.

Sam stepped over the salt line and knelt by the box. There was a sudden noise, like something exploding in the distance. It rumbled through the ship, shaking the floor beneath them. A new siren roared to life and he looked up to meet Dean's worried eyes. "That did not sound good."

Dean went back to the boxes and tore another open, pawing through papers and books. "Dammit." He tossed it aside and grabbed another. He pulled the flaps apart and jerked back as the face of the crying boy greeted him. "Crap that is lifelike." He pulled the painting out into the light and stared at it. It was a disturbingly life-like representation of the boy, heavy tears coursing down his sad face below blue eyes and shaggy hair.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. The boy appeared in the door of the room and stared at them.

"Sam, box!" Dean turned and stepped toward him with the painting.

Sam reached down. He took a deep breath, undid the latch and flipped open the lid of the box. The boxes behind Dean suddenly burst into flames, crackling and sending a wave of heat through the room. He could only watch as Dean was picked up and tossed into them along with the painting clutched in his hands. "Dean!" The boy came closer as Sam stood, glaring at him but was forced to stop at the edge of the circle.

"Stay in the damn circle!" Dean yelled as he rolled clear of the boxes and hastily slapped at the burning sensation on the side of his head.

Sam stumbled back a step as a cloud of dark smoke poured up from the interior of the curse box. It solidified quickly into a tall, masked figure in a long black cloak. It turned to look at Sam, then at Dean and finally at the boy outside the circle.

"Dean?" Sam asked, backing another step but staying in the circle.

"I know!" Dean turned back to the fire behind him. He'd lost his grip on the painting. It was still in there.

The crying boy, like Sam, took a step back from the tall figure. He stared up at it with wide eyes and the Tulpa leaned out from the box to peer more closely at him. "Dean! Now would be good!"

"I'm workin' on it!" Dean kicked at the boxes, sending burning embers up into the air as he looked for the painting.

The Tulpa straightened and Sam watched as a shiver passed along its length. "What now?" He said softly as the image shimmered and began to change. He saw the boy take yet another step away from the circle; there was fear on his small face now. The Tulpa's appearance melted and reformed before his eyes. It had changed from the faceless masque to a tall man in a priest's garb. His face was severe and looked down at the boy angrily.

"Holy crap." Sam breathed. "Dean, I think it's the priest! The one that kicked the kid out!"

"Great. A reunion." Dean spared a glance over his shoulder and went back to searching the flames. "Come on!"

The Tulpa reached to its waist and unbuckled a belt, pulling it free of the loops. "You have been wicked, child." Its voice was low, deep and filled the room above the sound of the flames. It's fierce eyes followed the boy as he moved away again. "You must be punished."

Dean saw the edge of the painting's frame beneath a burning box. He kicked it away and ducked quickly between the flames, pulling it out. "Got it!" He turned back in time to see the Tulpa's arm slap out lightning fast. Rather than go for the crying boy who it could not reach beyond the circle, it took hold of Sam by the throat and pulled him over. "Sam!"

Sam gasped as the cold fingers closed like a vice around his neck. He had one foot over the salt line but it wasn't enough. The image of the priest pulled him forward, taking him off balance. Sam found himself slammed into the floor with a foot in his back and his brother's voice in his ears. He could see the boy's face and it was resigned and fearful as he stared at Sam. In his eyes was a terrible sort of understanding and Sam cried out as the first, hot stripe of pain crossed his back.

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_To Be Continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Dean staggered forward with the painting as the Tulpa drew its arm back and whipped his belt down across Sam's unprotected back again. A long streak of blood appeared and he realized the bastard was using the buckle end. "Get off him!" Dean shouted. He made to step into the circle and suddenly the boy was there in front of him, pushing him back with an invisible force.

The light above them exploded as Dean thumped into the wall. He kept his grip on the painting and could do nothing but watch. The firelight flickered through the room showing his brother in flashes of red and orange as the Tulpa mercilessly whipped him again. Dean saw Sam fight to get out from under the foot and turn, taking a strike from the belt buckle along his shoulder and then arm.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean glared down at the child. "Let me go! Let me help him!" He struggled against the unseen force as the boy rounded on him. The only sounds in the room were his harsh breathing, the crackling of the fire and Sam's short cries between the whistle and slap of the belt.

Sam knew now why the boy had retreated from Dean earlier; his tall, angry big brother had briefly reminded the child of the priest who had taken him in and beaten him. He'd been scared and that fear had been strong enough to change the Tulpa and bring his nightmare to life. The Tulpa laid another burning stripe along his shoulder as Sam struggled to turn over and protect his back. He couldn't swallow the shout of pain as it tore into him.

"Dean!" Sam saw his brother in the flickering light trapped against the wall; far too near the fire with the boy's ghost standing before him. Sam glanced up and tried to catch the belt as it came for him again but it slid through his hands to bite into his chest instead as though only the buckle held substance. The foot trying to grind his hip into the floor and hold him in place felt very real however and Sam reared up, grabbing the Tulpa's knee and forced it off him.

Dean growled in pain as fire began to lick along his left side. The heat seared through his clothes as the flames grew closer and the boy stared at him angrily. "Look you little bastard!" Dean glared down at him. "I get it. You had it rough but I am not the one you wanna burn up!" He struggled against the force holding him, groaning in pain as the fire began to eat along his left leg. "Come on!" He saw Sam shove the Tulpa's foot off him and try to roll away. Sam made it to his knees at the edge of the circle and then was jerked back as the belt whistled out to wrap around his throat. His eyes met his brothers' and Dean saw the first flicker of resignation pass through Sam's eyes. "No. No way! Sam you hold on!" Dean looked down at the boy. "We can stop him, dammit! Let us stop the son of a bitch! Isn't that what you want?"

The boy's head tilted to the side; the glare fading from his small face. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. Dean saw the ghost's shoulders tense as he watched Sam being choked by the priest.

"Please." Sam gasped; his fingers scrabbling at the pressure at his throat. He met the child's eyes and pleaded silently with him as spots began to crawl across his vision. He felt a wide hand grasp his shoulder and pull him back as the belt tightened. "Let…Dean…"

"Sammy!" Dean suffered with every moment he couldn't reach him. Fear choked him when Sam's eyes closed and the Tulpa pulled him back toward the box. He shouted in surprise as he was released and fell to the floor. Pain shot up his leg into his head as the burns met the floor but he pushed it aside. The crying boy looked back at him and flickered out of sight.

Dean crawled to the edge of the circle, his eyes on his brother. He tossed the painting so it dropped into the box and climbed to his feet. "Alright you son of a bitch." He stepped into the circle and met the glare of the Tulpa's eyes. "My turn."

The Tulpa grinned, exposing yellowed teeth and the belt slid from Sam's throat, letting him slide to the floor gasping. It pulled its arm back and the belt whipped out to find Dean.

Sam opened his eyes to see the Tulpa's belt wrap around his brother's raised arm, biting into the skin as blood began to flow. "Dean." He tried to say his name but it was little more than a croak through his abused throat.

"Painting's…in the damn box!" Dean yelled, struggling not to let the Tulpa pull him closer. "Close it!"

Sam nodded. Getting to his hands and knees was an agonizing process and he crawled between them to the box. He put a shaking hand on the lid and began reciting the words in Latin needed to bind the contents inside. His throat protested. He looked up when he felt Dean's knees slap into his shoulder. The Tulpa was drawing him closer and reaching for Dean's throat. It drove him on, the words falling from his lips faster. The Tulpa seemed to realize what was about to happen. Its eyes widened fearfully and it turned its attention from Dean to Sam, lunging at him to stop him. He was too late. Sam spoke the last word and slammed the lid of the box closed.

There was a thump to the air without sound. The salt circle lifted from the floor and scattered with the impact as the Tulpa was sucked screaming into the box in a whirl of darkness. Dean dropped to his knees as Sam slowly collapsed over to his side.

"Holy crap." Dean panted with exertion. "Sammy?" He reached down and laid a hand in Sam's hair, getting a groan in response. "No napping, kiddo." Dean leaned over and then hovered, unsure where he could touch Sam without causing him more pain. His shirt was in bloody ribbons, open welts showing through the torn fabric. Sam turned his face up to him and Dean could see the impression of the belt on his neck coming up over the skin. "Damn, Sammy."

"It's Sam." Sam managed finally, smirking as Dean's face broke into a pained smile.

"Time to go." Dean uncurled his left leg painfully and decided he didn't mind that he couldn't tell how burned it was in the firelight.

"You ok?" Sam croaked and pushed to his elbows, trying to get a look at his brother's leg. The fabric was singed and burnt from his boot to mid-thigh.

"Later." Dean made himself get up, groaning with the effort and pulled Sam after him.

Sam staggered, tipping into his brother's shoulder. "Damn." He sucked in a breath. "Floor moved."

Dean chuckled, holding him up then he froze and watched as one of Sam's discarded markers began to slowly roll across the floor. "Uh…ok. We need to get topside now."

"What?" Sam looked up but Dean just shook his head and turned them toward the door.

"Nothing. Come on." Dean pulled on his arm.

"Wait, we can't leave the box." Sam stubbornly turned back. "If the flames get to it, they could be released."

Dean growled in frustration but agreed. He limped over to their bag; still miraculously unscathed and quickly stowed the curse box inside, zipping it shut and pulled it onto his shoulder. "Ok. We have to go." He got Sam moving the right way again, urging him as fast as he could. Each step on his left leg was effort in willpower for Dean; ignoring the agony from the burned skin as it stretched and moved. He really did not want to know how bad it was.

They staggered out of the room and through the storage section. When they stepped out into the hall Sam looked down with a frown as his feet 'splashed' into the carpet. "Uh…Dean?" He realized he was leaning slightly to his right to stay vertical and turned wide eyes to his brother. "We're sinking?"

"Yeah that's what I was afraid of. Move." Dean gave him another push, worried that it felt as though they were walking downhill to get back to the stairwell. Sam walked hunched over in front of him and had to slap a hand out to the wall to stop his stumble. "Sam?"

"I'm ok." Sam said but his eyes had closed and didn't want to reopen. He couldn't pick out singular pains across his back; it was one large, pulsing agony that threatened to take him down each time he turned his head or moved his arms. "Now I know…how a pirate feels."

Dean snorted softly and took his uninjured arm, the only un-bloody part of his body just then. "Come on, Cap'n Sammy." He pulled him back into motion, using his arm to keep him walking straight and not falling down. His tension level rose along with the water, climbing quickly over their feet and up their legs. They were wading thigh deep by the time they found the stairs. Dean wasn't altogether upset about the water; it was cold and working to soothe his burned leg.

There was another explosion, louder this time and the ship shook. "Dean?" Sam felt Dean tighten his grip on his arm, saw him grab hold of the door to the stairwell. "Dean, hurry." He could hear a new sound and it make the saliva dry in his mouth. It was a roaring sound and it was coming closer. As if confirming his fear, the water they stood in began to steadily rise.

Dean tugged hard at the door. The pressure of the water in the hall was holding it closed. "Hang on." He let go of Sam's arm and took a firmer grip on the handle, planting his uninjured leg against the wall and growled loudly as he pulled. It opened a few inches. Water swirled through the gap into the stairs and sucked it closed again. "Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted and started again. He heaved, shouting with the effort and got the door open a few inches, then a foot and managed to wedge himself in the door to keep it open. He dropped the duffel on the other side, put his back to the frame and used it as leverage. "Sam, come on!"

"Dean!" Sam shouted. He turned and got both hands on the edge of the door, meeting Dean's eyes with a panicked look. A wall of water rushed down the hall toward them, swallowing the lights one by one as it came. It slammed into Sam with the force of a punch, knocking the air from him as he tried to hold on. He felt his brother's hand clasp his wrist and heard Dean's voice and then he was torn away by the pressure.

"Sammy!" Dean tried to hold on to him; to pull him into the door. The weight of the water was too much. It slammed into the door and pushed it into his chest. He felt Sam's arm ripped away from him and then he was forced into the stairwell by the water. The door was slapped shut behind him and cut off the inflow of water. He sputtered and coughed, kicking until he felt the floor. It had risen to his chest and was growing slowly higher as he stood. The little window in the door taunted him, showing him nothing but water in the hall beyond. Dean threw himself at the door, determined to get it open and go after his brother. "NO!" He screamed. He pushed, kicked, cursed; planted his feet on the rail across from him and tried to muscle the door back open but it was no use.

Terror sucked the air from his lungs, leaving him panting as he finally let himself drift back from the door. "No." Dean gasped. "No way in hell." Dean turned and swam to the stairs, the curse box in its bag forgotten beneath the water and he started up the stairs in a panicked rush. "This is not gonna happen, Sammy. Not on my watch."

Dean pounded up the stairs, the pain in his leg forgotten until he reached the next floor. He burst out into the hall and cursed as he walked into three crewmen.

"Sir! You need to come with us!" The men converged on Dean.

"Get out of my way." Dean warned and pushed past them, knocking away the hands that tried to grab him. "My brother's on the deck below and I am NOT leaving without him!" He turned to glare at the hand that latched onto his arm. "You can help me or you can get hurt."

The man stared open-mouthed for a moment and then let go. "He's…on the deck below?"

"Is there another way down? Elevator shaft maybe?" Dean strode away and growled as he was grabbed again.

"Just…this way, ok?" The crewmen; a young man with a mop of dark hair that reminded Dean of his brother backed up a step. "There's an elevator shaft this way. The cars are all locked on the top deck." He didn't wait for the angry man to speak, turning instead and jogging down the hall the other way. "Come on." He told his fellow crew mates. "There's a passenger trapped below."

Dean fell in with the three men. Each second, each step was a condemnation in his own mind of failure; failure to save his brother. They were running uphill, the ship having tilted far enough aft that it was becoming difficult to keep their footing.

"Here!" The young man panted and pointed to the elevator doors.

Dean grabbed one side of the door, the man the other and together they pulled them apart. He looked down into the shaft and saw water lapping gently below.

"Ah man. It's under water already."

"Doesn't matter." Dean said grimly. He jumped into the shaft and grabbed hold of the cables. He slid down them, heedless of the pain in his hands as the rough metal abraded the skin. He splashed into the bottom of the shaft and was immediately at the doors. He could hear the men above him talking and ignored them. They had nothing to offer him and so didn't matter. Dean pulled at the doors, pushing and shoving. As they cracked open, water began to pour into the shaft. It gave him hope because it was only halfway up the doors.

"SAM!" Dean screamed as he got his head and shoulders through the doors and into the hall. "Sam, dammit you answer me!"

The hall was only half lit by the lights not yet blown by the water. Those remaining flickered as the power tried to stay on. Dean searched the hall up and down for any sign. "Sam!" He waded further toward the flooded section of the ship. "Sammy!" The fear tightened his chest. He didn't think he could hear anything over the pounding of his own heart's frantic beat. He stopped. There was something else. Dean strained, listening and grinned. A muffled banging carried through the water. It was Morse code and it was his brother's name; S-A-M slowly over and over. It warmed something broken in his heart that his little brother had that much faith that his big brother would come for him, tapping out his name instead of an s-o-s. "Hang on, Sammy!"

Dean dove into the water. Under the surface the pounding was louder. He followed another thirty feet down the passage and found the door it was coming from. It was a storage closet with a sliding door which explained how Sam could have gotten it open and closed. He held on to the handle and kicked the door. The sound was quickly, almost frantically returned and then he heard Sam's voice.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. He knew it was his brother on the other side of the door without having to see. He heard the banged message; w-a-i-t. He had only inches of air left and he forced himself to calm now that Dean had found him. He'd panicked when the wall of water tore him away from his brother and swallowed more than a few mouthfuls of water as it had pushed and tumbled him down the hall. He had forgotten his injuries in favor of just trying to find some way to breathe. He surfaced just once and had seen the top of the open door. It had taken every remaining ounce of strength he had to swim to it, pull himself through and then force the sliding door shut as the water rushed in with him. Sam held himself above water now through strict force of will.

Thin streamers of blood floated through the water around him from his back, arms and chest. The water had slowed the bleeding though not stopped it. The single light in the ceiling beside his head made the blood glow in the water and his exhausted mind couldn't help but follow the meaningless patterns it made. Sam bumped his head on the ceiling again, trying to keep his chin above the water.

"Hurry, Dean." Sam said in a soft voice.

Dean swam hurriedly back up the hall and burst to the surface to gasp in much needed air. "Crap. Too old…for this." He gulped in another breath and dove back under. He reached the door and gave it another knock before grabbing the handle. He planted his feet on the frame and pulled. As it opened he saw Sam's hands appear, helping to shove it out of the way. A second later his brother appeared beneath the water, his pale face in the dimly lit water telling Dean he didn't have much time to get him up the hall. Dean swam alongside Sam and took his arm. He pulled his brother with him up the hall as fast as he could. He could feel the fine tremors in his brother's arm. He pulled strongly for the surface and carried Sam with him until both their heads broke the surface.

Sam coughed and gasped, letting Dean drag him through the water until he felt the floor beneath his feet. "Dean."

Dean got them both standing and then jerked Sam into a hug, heedless of his back. At that moment he didn't care. He crushed his little brother to him for a moment and felt Sam's tired arms come up to return the hug. He set Sam away from him with a grin. "Can we blow this pop stand now?"

Sam nodded, smiling. "No more swimming."

"Let's go." Dean pulled Sam's arm over his shoulder and half pulled, half carried up the inclined hall to the elevator shaft. The water was still at their hips as they reached it. "One short climb, kiddo and we're outta here."

Sam groaned but nodded. If it meant not drowning he'd find the energy. He waded into the shaft beside his brother and reared back in surprise as a young man landed beside them suddenly with a splash.

"Oh my god you found him!" The young, dark haired crewmen stared between the brothers with a grin. His toothy smile faltered when he got a good look at Sam. "Wow, man are you ok?"

"He's been better." Dean said shortly, surprised the kid had actually come down to help. "What's your name, kid?"

"Joey." The young man smiled and turned to look up. "Throw it down, Fred!" A rope tumbled down to land beside them with a splash.

"Joey, you're ok." Dean grinned. "Ok, sasquatch." He took up the end of the rope and reached it around Sam's waist. "You first." He waited for Sam's tired eyes to meet his. "This is gonna suck."

Sam nodded. He could already feel the rope resting against the open welts low on his back. "I'm good." He smiled and let Dean finish tying him off. Sam took hold of the rope in front of him and took a deep breath as well to prepare himself.

"Take him up!" Joey yelled.

Sam groaned as he was lifted out of the water with the first pull from above. The rope slid up his back, pulling against the wounds and he had to drop his head against it, swallowing convulsively to keep from throwing up.

"Breathe through it, Sam." Dean told him. He could see the green face from below and suffered with him.

"What happened to him?" Joey asked with concern heavy in his voice.

Dean shrugged. "Water tossed him around before he got out of it."

"Wow." Joey breathed. "The Doc's set up in the casino. We can take him there."

Dean looked over surprised. "I thought we were abandoning ship?"

"I'm not sure. They said to get all passengers on deck and take any injuries to the casino." Joey smiled. "Maybe that means they're getting it under control."

Dean looked back up and watched his brother's legs pulled out of sight in the door above. A few moments later the rope dropped back down and he grabbed it, holding it out.

"No, you first." Joey smiled. "We're supposed to be saving you, you know."

Dean snorted a laugh and thought if the kid only knew. "See you at the top." He winced as the rope bit into the already raw flesh of his hands and started up; climbing hand over hand and walking his legs up the wall. When he reached the doorway, hands appeared to pull him up and in. "Where is he?" Dean looked around and saw his brother propped against the wall opposite. "Get Joey up here." He told the two men and went to kneel by Sam.

"Dean." Sam asked softly. "Where's the box?"

Dean shook his head with a smile. "Bottom of the stairs. It'll keep." Sam nodded and closed his eyes. "No sleeping yet, dude. Still gotta get you upstairs."

"Get me up." Sam held his arm up, the only part of him that wasn't singing with pain and let Dean pull him to his feet. He staggered and would have gone down again if not for Dean's supporting arm and Sam couldn't help letting his head drop forward to rest on his brother's shoulder. "Crap."

"Ok, Sammy. Take your time." Dean held him up and kept his smart-ass comments to himself. He was still too relieved to have Sam back and alive if sopping and bloody. He squeezed the back of Sam's neck in an old gesture of comfort. He watched Joey come up over the edge and gave the young man a nod of thanks.

"Can I help?" Joey asked as the other two crewmen started down the hall, downhill.

"I've got him." Dean smiled and leaned Sam back. "Ready?"

"Les'go." Sam opened his eyes with difficulty and let Dean lead him along with a firm grip on his arm. When they reached the stairs, he eyed them with a soft groan and started up.

Dean found himself supporting more and more of Sam's weight as they climbed. They had nine more floors to go and Sam was barely getting one foot in front of the other anymore. "Screw it." Dean said suddenly. "You'll thank me later, Sam." He turned and took Sam's arm, tipping him over his shoulders. He knew he'd made the right decision when Sam did little more than groan.

"I'll watch his head." Joey said from behind them and stayed close as Dean went more quickly up the stairs. He hovered a hand over Sam's head at each turn to make sure it didn't sway into the railing. The tile of the ship made going up the stairs a balancing act of holding the rail and not tipping over into the wall. "Are you alright?" Joey asked Dean as he noticed the older man had begun limping and then got a good look at his left pant leg. "Holy crap did you get burned somewhere?"

"It'll keep, kid." Dean told him and went back to ignoring the fire in his leg as they climbed. They passed the third floor and Dean stopped, feeling the ship move. "Tell me we're not sinking?" He grabbed the rail more tightly and held on to Sam who he was sure was unconscious now.

Joey had hold of Sam's head, keeping it away from the rail as the ship swayed and then smiled. "I think it's righting itself. The angle doesn't feel as steep now."

Dean moved a little and nodded. "I think you're right."

"They must have gotten ballast and pump control back." Joey said in relief. "That means they can drain the flooded sections."

"About damn time." Dean said ruefully and started up the stairs again. He glanced back and saw Joey taking his role of protecting Sam's head seriously and smiled his thanks.

The upper deck of the ship was a little disconcerting. They had spent so much time below with so few people that the mass of passengers and crew waiting for them almost made Dean want to turn around and go back.

"This way." Joey stepped ahead and led him through the throngs of people and into the casino where a makeshift sickbay had been set up. "Doctor Evans?"

Dean saw the Doctor appear around a row of slot machines and the look of wide-eyed surprise when he spotted Dean and his burden. "Hey, Doc."

"What have you two gotten into now?" Doctor Evans shook his head. "Bring him over here."

Dean followed him behind the slot machines and stopped at the gurney the Doctor gestured at. "You're gonna wanna keep him on his side." Dean warned as he gently let Sam down off his shoulder with the help of the Doctor and Joey, rolling him so he lay on his side. "His back's a mess."

"Good god." Doctor Evans breathed as he took in the younger brother's back, pulling the remains of his shirt away for a better look. "Is this the worst of it?"

Dean nodded. "I think so. There's at least one more on his chest and his arm too."

"And at some point he's been throttled?" The doctor looked up to Dean in confusion as he saw Sam's throat and the bruised ring that circled it.

"Long story." Dean pulled over one of the stools by the slot machines and sat with a happy groan, off his feet at last.

"I'll guess it has something to do with the fact you're all dripping wet and cold." He took up Sam's wrist and frowned at the clammy skin. "Joey, some blankets please? Oh, and see if you can find my nurse. He's out on deck somewhere."

"Yessir." Joey tossed off a salute to the doctor, a grin to Dean and dashed away.

Doctor Evans rolled a small table with various emergency supplies on it beside the brothers, took up a pair of blunt scissors and began cutting Sam's shirt from his back. He looked over to Dean for just a second, studying the dark, tired eyes. "So, will there be any more fires do you think?"

Dean grinned. "How should I know?" He rested a hand on the back of Sam's head in his hair when he started to stir. "But if I had to guess, I'd say no."

The doctor smiled and nodded. "I thought you might say that." Part of him wanted to ask Dean what had really been happening. The more rational part of him however warned him that he didn't really want to know the answer. He went with rational and didn't ask anything else.

Joey returned with an armful of blankets and a smile. He set them on the end of the gurney and quickly unfolded one, spreading it over Sam's legs. He took another and laid it over Dean's shoulders. "Hey doc, this guy's got a pretty badly burned leg too."

Dean jerked his head up with a glare. "You bustin' me out kid?"

Joey nodded happily. "Yep." He winked at Dean. "Got an older brother too. You don't scare me."

"Why you little…" Dean watched Joey dash away again and chuckled as the doctor came around to have a look at his leg. "It's good, Doc. Fix Sam up."

"Sam's unconscious and happily so I'd imagine. He's not feeling much of anything right now." The doctor knelt and pulled the wet and still crisped denim away from his leg. "You on the other hand…ouch." He looked up as his nurse appeared. "Ah, Andy, good. Antiseptic here please, burn cream and then loose bandages."

"Yes, Doctor." Andy nodded and took a few things from the tray before dropping to sit beside Dean's leg. "This might hurt a bit."

Doctor Evans went back to Sam and sighed. The poor boy was a mess. He peeled Sam's shirt from his back once he'd cut it loose and moved to check the wounds on his chest, hissing between his teeth in sympathy. He had done a tour in an inner city emergency room and no matter what Dean said, he knew damn well wounds like these came from only one thing; a belt buckle. He'd seen far too many of them but as before, he didn't ask. He knew Dean wouldn't have done this; the man was far too concerned. Even as Dean flinched with Andy cleaning his burns, his hand never left his brother's head. No, this was something else entirely and after the events of the last few days…he would accept whatever story Dean decided to tell later and he bent to start cleaning the first of Sam's wounds.

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"Dean?"

The sound of his name jerked Dean from his sleep. He whipped his head up to find Sam's blue-green eyes finally open. "Hey, little brother." He smiled.

"What happened?" Sam looked around and was mildly confused to find them in their room on the cruise ship. "Weren't we flooding?"

Dean chuckled and took a bottle of water from the table. He held it up and lifted Sam's head so he could take a drink. "Soon as we locked up pyro boy all the electronics came back online. Doc says it didn't take them long at all to get back control of the ship and start fixing things."

Sam raised his arm, frowning at the new bandages and rubbed a hand over his face. "How long have I been out?"

"About a day." Dean sat back down and stopped his brother from picking at the gauze on his chest. "We're moving again. Got a hold of Bobby." He chuckled. "He really was getting ready to charter his own damn boat to come find us once he realized he couldn't reach us."

Sam smirked and tried to sit up. The movement sent shafts of pain radiating across his back and he dropped back to the bed, panting.

"How about you don't try that again?" Dean leaned in and pressed a hand into his shoulder. "Your back's burger meat, dude." He waited until Sam's breathing eased back to normal. "We've got a whole nother day til we hit land. Just lay there and heal, ok?"

Sam nodded carefully, not wanting to cause himself any more pain. "Hey, Dean?" He rolled his head to meet his brother's eyes. "How many people died?"

"Aw hell, Sammy." Dean leaned back and shook his head. "More than should have, less than could have." He smiled at Sam's scowl. "No. I'm not telling. It's not our fault, man. We did our best. Hell we bled for these people." He sighed and put his hand back on Sam's shoulder. "You don't need to add them to the guilt pile ok?"

Sam stared him down for a second and then closed his eyes with a weary nod. "Ok."

"That's my boy." Dean smiled and patted his shoulder. "You in pain? Doc left some pills for you."

Sam shook his head. "It's ok now. Long as I don't move too much. How's your leg?"

"Crispy." Dean said with a shake of his head and a laugh. "It's alright. Second degree burns the doc said. About as bad as that time you fell asleep out back naked and got sunburn on your ass."

"Dude!" Sam glared at him and rolled his eyes. "I was seven and some idiot gave me Nyquil and let me lay out in the sun."

Dean laughed and shrugged. "You wouldn't stop coughing. It was annoying." He grinned at Sam's patented bitch face.

"Next time we're flying." Sam closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired once more as the room spun around him. "Even if I have to knock you out."

"Try it, hotshot." Dean laughed again and watched as Sam's breathing evened out. He raised his other hand up from below the bed and kissed the little silver button. It was attached by a cord to the IV set up hanging over the bed. "Morphine button, Sammy." Dean set it on the bed and leaned back. "Best way to make your irritating little brother get some damn sleep." He propped his bandaged leg up beside his brother's.

"Yer a…a jerk." Sam grumbled through half-lidded eyes and then couldn't ignore the pull of sleep any longer.

"Uh huh." Dean let his head thump back to the wall and sighed happily with the gentle rocking of the ship as she cut through the ocean. He kicked the drying curse box with his good leg and grinned. "Good night, bitch."

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_The End._


End file.
